



•# X ^' l 






^ y ^. 



V v. 










SAMUEL BUT LEE, 






HUDIBEAS 



OTHER WORKS. 



By A. RAMSAY. 




LONDON: 
ARLES KNIGHT & Co., LUDGATE STREET. 

1846. 






LONDON : WII-AE CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD 



HUDIBRAS. 



About twenty years ago two barristers of the 

circuit, one of whom now occupies a high judicial situa- 
tion, after having dined with the judges and the rest of 
their professional brethren, strolled a mile or two out of 
the county-town to enjoy the repose and quiet of the 
calm summer's evening after the turmoil of the day's 
exertions. On their return they were overtaken by a 
labouring man, to whom they made a passing remark on 
the fineness of the evening, and he replied, " Yes, sirs, 
' The moon pulls off her veil of light 
That hides her face by day from sight 
(Mysterious veil, of brightness made, 
That *s both her lustre and her shade), 
And in the lanthorn of the night 
With shining horns hangs out her light/ " 

" Heyday !" said one, " you quote Hudibras ! Pray do 
you know any more of it?" " Yes, sir," replied the 
man ; "I have but few books, and Hudibras is the one 
I most admire. I know it all by heart." His assertion 
was tested in repeated recitations of passages not the 
most familiar. He was the man of one book. 

Such a knowledge of Hudibras, however, indeed any 
real knowledge, is extremely rare. There is probably 
no author who is so popular and so little understood. 
His couplets form apophthegms which are in every one's 
mouth, yet not one in a thousand has attempted to read 
his great poem, nor probably one in five hundred even 
of those who have gone through and attained a compre- 
hension of the purpose of the whole. By the many it is 
considered a coarse though powerful satire, a low in- 



O HUDIBRAS. 

vective against the author's political opponents, written 
in a burlesque doggrel style. A reader takes up the 
poem for the first time : he finds the style quaint ; the 
rhymes droll and ingenious, though irregular ; the 
rhythm faulty, with the occasional use of a word or an 
image not now to be mentioned " to ears polite ; ,s that 
there is little or no story, the adventures ludicrous, the 
characters grotesque and apparently incongruous ; that 
the wit is so profuse as to dazzle, and so allusive as to 
require more previous study of the most discursive kind 
than men usually possess for its due comprehension ; and 
that the dialogues are long-winded, and so involved as 
to require great attention to follow. The book is laid 
down, not again to be taken up, except by accident, and 
this is called having read Hudibras. Even the taking 
it up for a first time is done generally rather in defe- 
rence to the great arbiters of literary fame, not only of 
our own, but of foreign nations, than from a liking for 
the task ; a man of any education must not be entirely 
ignorant of Hudibras. By the great vulgar and tf 3 
small, from Pepys, who bought the work because he was 
told it was witty, though he could not find it out, to the 
devourers of the outpourings of the Minerva Press, 
Hudibras is quoted and praised, in utter ignorance of its 
true worth. 

But it has not been only by superficial readers that 
Hudibras has been misconstrued, as at least we humbly 
presume to think. By his critics and his industrious 
editor Dr. Zachary Grey it has been unhesitatingly as- 
sumed to be a mere attack and bitter satire on the 
Puritan party, and its author has been blamed or de- 
fended for embodying the character of one of his patrons, 
Sir Samuel Luke, or some one else, for though it is at 
once assumed to be a portrait, the original is disputed in 
that of Hudibras ; and Ralph, andTalgol, and Crowdero, 
and Trulla, are all asserted to be mere copies of living 
characters, on the authority of Sir Roger l'Estrange, in 
a ' Key to Hudibras/ published with a collection of 
poems attributed to ' the author of Hudibras,' with pro- 
bably about as much truth as is contained in the Key 



HUDIBRAS. 7 

itself. The only exception to this, as we think, erro- 
neous belief, is in the edition of Hudibras published by 
the Rev. Treadway Russel Nash in 1793 ; an edition 
far less known than it deserves to be, and as superior to 
that of Dr. Grey as good sense with a large amount of 
learning and good taste can be to the mere accumulation 
of passages illustrating very frequently nothing but the 
editor's multifarious reading and want of judgment. Dr. 
Johnson, also, in his critique on the poem, passes in 
silence the individuality, and considers the author to 
have only satirised the worst peculiarities of the various 
sects, and urges that " it is scarcely possible, in the re- 
gularity and composure of the present time, to image the 
tumult of absurdity and clamour of contradiction which 
perplexed doctrines, disordered practices, and disturbed 
both public and private quiet, in that age when subordi- 
nation was broken, and none was hissed away when any 
unsettled innovator who could hatch a half-formed no- 
tion, produced it to the public ; when every man might 
become a preacher, and almost every preacher could 
collect a congregation." Butlers mind was far too large 
and creative to reduce him to the necessity of borrowing 
or copying any particular person ; nor do any of his cha- 
racters bear such marks of individuality as to induce us to 
suppose them drawn from living originals. Any wooden- 
legged fidcller might have sat for Crowdero, as any 
" sporting butcher," as we should now say, might have 
stood for Talgol ; and even4n Sidrophel, who is certainly 
the best identified as Lilly,/ there is no personality, no- 
thing unfitting for a v " v eenjtfror of even the present day : 
nothing but the words or acts that r might characterize a 
class. /Butler, was no doubt a royalist and a Church-of- 
England manj; in Hudibras and Ralph he has no doubt 
embodied the Presbyterian and Independent parties ; but 
though his subject was thus rendered local and transitory, 
the wide grasp of his intellect, the justness and impar- 
tiality of his general views, have rendered the satire he 
applied to them applicable to folly, meanness, selfishness, 
hypocrisy, conceitedness, scholastic pedantry — to, in fact, 
all the worst rank growth of the human mind, through 

b2 



8 HUDIBRAS. 

all time and in all situations. It is this that has made 
him so proverbial. His couplets, with the terseness and 
sting of epigrams, are found to fit now as well as they 
did then ; but he heaps them one over the other in 
boundless profusion, while we, his borrowers, find one 
sufficient for most of our purposes. 

Nor is it to be taken for granted that Butler was the 
indiscriminating satirist of what was then called the 
Puritan party. It is true that, passing from one extreme 
to the other, from the pomp and imposing ceremony of 
the old Roman Catholic church, the Puritans had been 
gradually approximating to the coldest, barest, and most 
unimaginative utilitarianism ; and Butler felt, like Gothe, 
that, " it is the beautiful which needs encouragement, 
for all require it, and but few can create it;" and he 
therefore attacked unsparingly these defects of their 
general character : but he has shown himself by no 
means unaware of the faults of their opponents, and has 
dwelt chiefly on those matters of dissent or dispute de- 
pending on form or mere metaphysical abstraction, rather 
than on any of those more material subjects of discussion 
on which he knew there was abundant room to diifer 
conscientiously. 

It has been objected to Butler that he has not done 
justice to his political opponents, either in their indivi- 
dual characters or with respect to the importance of their 
cause, and their sincere attachment to it. This appears 
to be to mistake the nature of the poem altogether. It 
must never be forgotten that it is a burlesque^ that its 
aim was ridicule ; and that the author was a? partisan, not 
a judge. In this character he has generally attributed 
defects, and foibles, and vices pretty unsparingly alike to 
the individuals and the cause ; but at least they are de- 
fects, and foibles, and vices which he satirizes. No single 
instance has ever been urged of his confounding virtue 
and vice, or folly and wisdom. Neither did he shut his 
eyes to the existence of those faults in his own party 
when they came in his way even in the Hudibras. His 
great talent was to perceive and seize upon any features 
of incongruity existing in any subject or person ; and not 



HUDIBRAS. y 

to weigh merits and defects impartially in a balance. 
Had he been a dissenter instead of a member of the 
Church of England, the poem might have retained much 
of the same form ; the two principals might have repre- 
sented High Church and Low Church, a few illustrative 
personal allusions might have been changed, but the 
substance might have remained nearly the same. *~ 

It is a great proof of the high merit of the poem, that 
so much more should be required of it than its purpose 
contemplated ; and so much attributed to it that (at least 
as we think) it does not contain. Dissenters generally 
consider it as a violent and false attack on their prin- 
ciples and conduct ; and one of the organs of that body has 
very recently complained of the appearance of papers on 
Hudibras in the i Penny Magazine ;' but every dissenter 
must know that while Butler has only ridiculed those 
points which are either bad in themselves or become so by 
being exaggerated, contemporary writers in sober prose 
have asserted the same things of them, and adduced facts 
in their support. In truth, every cause is occasionally 
damaged by its adherents ; and it would be a wiser course 
in a party to abandon its injudicious or discreditable sup- 
porters than to identify their cause with the character of 
the individual. If Hudibras is & portrait of anybody, he 
is certainly one that may well be disclaimed as a repre- 
sentative ; and the endeavours to identify his character- 
istics with the principles of a great party remind us very 
considerably of the efforts of Dogberry, who insists upon 
being recorded in a somewhat similar manner. Beyond- 
a few passing and very general allusions, few of the great 
leaders in the struggle for liberty are mentioned except 
Cromwell, Shaftesbury, and Lilburn. Cromwell could 
hardly hope to escape as the successful head of the party ; 
and the only allusion to him is as to the storm on the 
night of his death, of which as improper a use had been 
made by the fanatics of his party as is here made by 
Butler ; and can it be said that the creatures he names 
and satirizes are the men to whom England is to look up 
to as its benefactors and patriots ? Are they not rather 



10 HUDIBBAS. 

every party, and of which every party ought to be glad 
to be released, even though the blow that strikes them off 
be a smart one. For it would be utterly useless to deny 
that among the Puritan party, to whom we owe a great 
portion of our present civil and religious liberty, there 
were many who carried their opinions to a great height 
of extravagance, many actuated by selfish and worldly 
motives, and many profound and base hypocrites ; — would 
it not be becoming of any party to rejoice at their being 
exposed, even by an adversary ? The reading of Butler 
was extraordinary ; and in the controversies between 
Hudibras and Ralph, which are probably those which 
give most offence to dissenting minds, there is no single 
doctrine proposed on either side that is not derived, 
directly or by inference, from writers of the dissenting 
persuasion. It may be unfair to take an individual opi- 
nion as representing those of a party, but it is what is 
constantly done ; and where the opinion is written by the 
known defender or adherent of a party, and not authori- 
tatively denied, there is indeed no other way of ascer- 
taining the opinion of large bodies of men. Nor is it to 
be concluded that Butler was unaware of the real merits 
and services of the Puritans, any more than he could 
have been of the beauties of Qomer, Virgil, or Cer- 
vantes, from all of whom he has been able to select 
matters for ridicule, without exciting the reprehension of 
their admirers. 

It must alsp be taken into account that the period did 
not require, perhaps even did not allow, any excess of 
moderation on either side. We believe the convictions 
of the best men of all parties were too strong, their 
feelings too ardent, their minds too sincere, to admit of 
any temporising ; and they were naturally thence led to 
an exaggerated esteem for the more disputable points of 
their own faith, and a horror for the similar points of 
that of their adversaries. Butler no doubt shared in the 
common feelings of his age and time, and for such a man 
it is a high and marked merit that he descended to so 
little personal satire ; all is general, with the exception of 
a few passing allusions, and the characters of Shaftesbury 



HUDIBRAS. 11 

and Lilburn, in which few we think will consider him to 
have transgressed the proper limits, or done either any 
great injustice ; and it should also be borne in mind that 
though few or none have attained any lasting eminence, 
that attacks by the dissenting party on the royalists, of a 
most bitter and unsparing character, were by no means 
" few or far between.'' 

Ridicule is, in fact, essentially one-sided ; and the cha- 
racteristic exaggeration was extended to other as well as 
political and religious notions. Butler was a man of vast 
knowledge and learning, acquainted with science, poetry, 
painting, and music. He cannot therefore be supposed 
without a just feeling of the advantages of all these pur- 
suits, or to have any inclination to unduly depreciate 
them. But his attacks, both in Hudibras and others of 
his works on the Royal Society just then established, 
was as bitter as witty, and as unsparing as those on his 
religious and political adversaries ; nor can it with justice 
be said that his attacks were without foundation or un- 
productive of good effects. There is abundance of evi- 
dence that the members of the Royal Society occupied 
themselves too often at that time with trifles or absurdi- 
ties that laid them open to his satire ; and it may well be 
believed that his remarks made them more cautious, for 
since his time, though the members have been at least 
equally zealous in the cause of science, they have no 
longer fallen into such absurdities. For though Peter 
Pindar found a point or two of attack subsequently, they 
were isolated instances, and one — 4 The Emperor of 
Morocco ' — an exaggeration amounting to a falsification, 
besides entirely overlooking the real advantages of a know- 
ledge of entomology. Butler's most distinguishing trait 
appears to have been a thorough abhorrence of all mere 
pretence and hypocrisy, or of what is most expressively 
meant by the somewhat vulgar term humbug. Where- 
ever he finds or suspects it, the veil is pulled off with a 
most unrelenting hand, and the native deformity exposed 
with all the aids the most exhaustless and caustic wit ex- 
pended on its illustration could afford ; and it must be 
placed to Butler's credit, that in an age noted for its 



12 HUDIBRAS. 

licentiousness, though influenced so far as well as encou- 
raged by the nature of the style he had adopted as to 
use occasionally coarse expressions and images, there is 
not one couplet — nay, not one line — in any of his recog- 
nised works inculcating an immoral or libidinous senti- 
ment. It has been said that the controversy between 
Hudibras and the Lady involves some obscenity ; but it is 
at least very discreetly veiled, and involves no more than 
a double entendre that requires a \ery piercing sight 
and a warm imagination to discover, and the passages 
lose none of their point by its being wholly unperceived. 
Butler has also been accused of personal ingratitude, 
and also of his life not having been in unison with his 
opinions. In his Life we shall have occasion to notice the 
first accusation ; and with regard to the second, he 
seems to have had very rational notions as to fighting in 
an age that was too fond of it : in what other way he 
was to have distinguished himself is not stated. Without 
rank or influence he could have done nothing for his 
party ; and the indiscriminate interference of persons, 
however unqualified, in political discussions, was what he 
abhorred , and that 

The oyster-women lock'd their fish up, 
And trudg'd away to cry " No bishop, 1 ' 
he has held up to the ridicule it cannot but excite ; for 
though a nation does not deserve, and cannot hope to pre- 
serve, its liberties without taking an interest in them, 
the exaggerated display of this feeling must often become 
ludicrous. But with the exception of the short time he 
was in the service of Sir Samuel Luke, he most assuredly 
did nothing against it. He, like many others, submitted 
to what he could not prevent ; and when the dominion 
he disliked was removed, openly rejoiced in the manner 
for which his talents fitted him. He may have been 
wrong in his estimate of the parties which then divided 
the nation— we think him undoubtedly so ; but it would 
be folly to shut our eyes to the excellence of the picture 
he has drawn of his opponents, or to the truth of much 
of the vice and hypocrisy he has so well castigated ; and 
worse than folly — wickedness — to suppose that such a 



HUDIBRAS. 13 

man was actuated by any other than honest, even though 
mistaken, motives. The ideas we have here summarily 
expressed we shall have occasion to develop more ef- 
fectively by particular instances in proceeding through 
the abstract of. his works ; and we now proceed to give a 
sketch of his uneventful life. 

Butler's lather was a small freeholder, and for the time 
a large farmer, as he possessed a tenement often pounds 
a year, and held a farm under Sir William Russel at a 
yearly rent of three hundred. Nor was he an ignorant 
man, as he kept the parish register, managed its affairs 
under his landlord, who was a zealous and suffering 
royalist, and lord of the manor ; and he was also church- 
warden of the parish in the year in which the poet was 
born, at Strensham, in Worcestershire, near the bank of 
the Avon, in the house yet standing, and of which we 
give a view. His baptism is entered in his father's own 
hand, under the date Feb. 2, 1612, being the fifth child 
and the second son, and receiving the same name, Samuel, 
that was borne by his father, to whom two other sons 
were subsequently born ; and some of their descendants 
are said to be yet existing- in the neighbourhood. 

Under such a parent his education was not likely to 
have been neglected at home, but he was sent early to 
the college school at Worcester, where he had for his 
preceptor Dr. Henry Bright, a celebrated scholar, one 
who appears to have taken great delight in his office, 
and who was very popular with the gentlemen of the 
county, they esteeming it a favour that he should in- 
struct their sons. How long he remained here is un- 
known. Dr. Nash, whose short memoir contains mauy 
particulars not found elsewhere, thinks it probable that 
he remained here till he was about fourteen. It is 
wholly uncertain whether he was ever entered at any 
university. The biography prefixed to the edition of 
1710 (and it is followed by Dr. Grey) says he went to 
Cambridge, but was never matriculated ; and W^ood 
states that he was there six or seven years, but Dr. Nash 
feels inclined to reject this, partly on the rather slight 
ground of his using a collegiate term peculiar to Oxford, 

b 3 



14 



HUDIBRAS. 



- /-- 



w- ,: ■ 




HUDIBRAS. 



15 



and partly on account of the length of the time assigned ; 
but he mentions in a note that Butler was said to have 
been a member of Gray's Inn, but gives no date. As 
his first occupation, on his return after an uncertain inter- 
val to his native county, was as justice's clerk to Thomas 
Jefferies, Esq., of Earl's Croombe— a situation which 
certainly required a knowledge of the law — we do not 
see why it should not have been at this period that he 
studied the law, but he certainly did not do so as a member 
of Gray's Inn, as we have ascertained by searching the 
lists in the library of that Inn. With Mr. JefFeries he 
seems to have lived on terms of familiarity, and with 
great comfort ; while from his residence being in a retired 
part of the county, with bad roads around him, he pro- 
bably had much leisure, which he did not suffer to pass 
unprofitably. It was here he exercised himself in paint- 
ing, of which specimens existed to a recent period, as 
Dr. Nash, whose memoir was published in 1793, says he 
had seen some at Earl's Croombe in his youth, attri- 
buted to him, which, however, were of no great merit ; 
and he mentions having heard of a portrait of Oliver 
Cromwell painted by him. Still without precise dates, 
we find him next residing with Elizabeth Countess of 
Kent, at Wrest in Bedfordshire, where he had the advan- 
tage of a good library, and formed an intimacy with the 
learned Selden. This was his retreat during a great part 
of the civil war ; and as his friend Selden was left exe- 
cutor to the Countess of Kent, Dr. Nash not improbably 
supposes his employment, whatever it was, might not 
have ceased at her death. He is next said — the only 
authority being the short biography to the edition of 
1710, and which has been followed in all succeeding 
accounts of him — to have been in the service of Sir Sa- 
muel Luke, of Cople Hoo Farm, or Wood End, in Bed- 
fordshire ; but he could not have been there long. In 
this last situation it is generally stated that he " com- 
posed this loyal poem," says the memoir of 1710 ; " con- 
ceived the idea," says the l Biographie Universelle ;' 
while Dr. Nash thinks he "laid the groundwork" while 
with the Countess of Kent : but from the intervals at 



16 HUDIBRAS. 

which the poem was produced, we think it far more 
likely that, beyond a keen observation of characters and 
events, the poem was not contemplated till after the 
Restoration. Indeed, the commencement is clearly re- 
trospective, and the last part commemorative of the 
events immediately preceding the return of Charles. 

It has been made a reproach to Butler, that he has 
embodied the character of his employer in that of Hudi- 
bras, and ingratitude has been urged or insinuated against 
him. It is, however, a remarkable peculiarity of But- 
ler, that there is not throughout his works the slightest 
allusion to himself personally, or to any of the circum- 
stances of his life. Though the poet appears frequently 
in his own character, all his allusions are alike. He 
laughs at his contemporaries, Selden, Davenant, and even 
Lilly, precisely in the same manner, and, except Lilly, 
as inoffensively as at Empedocles, Pythagoras, and 
others ; burlesques Don Quixote and Gondibert equally 
with the Iliad and iEneid. We know nothing, more- 
over, of the relation between Butler and Sir Samuel 
Luke — nothing that should have called for any forbear- 
ance on the part of Butler, and little to serve to identify 
the knight with the hero of the poem. The memoir of 
1710 says he was an " eminent commander under Oliver 
Cromwell j" the ' Biographie Universelle,' that " he was 
an ardent puritan, who attached himself to the cause of 
Cromwell." This at least is a mistake. Sir Samuel 
Luke was a rigid Presbyterian, and colonel of a regiment 
of foot in the Parliamentary service ; but both he and 
his father, Sir Oliver, are in the list of Secluded Mem- 
bers, who were kept out of the House most probably as 
known not to approve of the trial of the King, then about 
to take place. Still, as an active magistrate and a com- 
mittee-man, he is not unlikely to have excited Butler's 
hostility, and he may have been the original of some of 
the features of the character of his hero. But mark the 
difference he makes between the two in the only passage 
in which Luke is positively identified. While encou- 
raging himself and his follower to undertake the adven- 
ture of the Bear, which ended so disastrously to them 
both, Hudibrassays — 



HUDIBRAS. 17 

" 'T is sung, there is a valiant Mamaluke 

In foreign land yclep'd * 

/ To whom we oft have been compar'd 
I For person, parts, address, and beard ; 

Both equally reputed stout, 

And in the same cause both have fought ; 

He oft in such attempts as these 

Came off with glory and success/' 

Now, admitting that Hudibras represents a class, and not 
an individual, nothing can be more innocent than this 
laugh at the county justice's exploits against village wakes, 
and in putting down perhaps the ' Book of Sports,' to 
which, as a Presbyterian, he would of course be violently 
opposed. Butler also indulged himself in a good-natured 
laugh or two at his friend Selden, but the chief of these 
were in his MSS. and Remains, and not published during 
his lifetime. 

Other originals have, however, been ascribed to Hudi- 
bras. The honour has been claimed for a Colonel Rolls ; 
and Dr. Grey, in his Preface, says that the circumstance 
of Sir Samuel being compared to Hudibras is against 
the supposition of his being the original, adding that he 
had been informed " by a bencher of Gray's Inn, who 
had it from an acquaintance of Mr. Butler's, that the 
person intended was Sir Henry Rosewell, of Ford Ab- 
bey, in Devonshire. " Dr. Nash justly remarks upon 
this, that " it matters not whether the hero was de- 
signed as the picture of Sir Samuel Luke, Colonel 
Rolls, or Sir Henry Rosewell ; he is, in the language of 
Dryden, ' knight of the shire, and represents them all,' 
that is, the [defects of the] whole body of the Presbyte- 
rians, as Ralpho does that of the Independents. It 
would be degrading to the liberal spirit and universal 
genius of Mr. Butler to narrow his general satire to a 
particular libel on any character, however marked and 
prominent. To a single rogue or blockhead he disdained 
to stoop ; the vices and follies of the age in which he 
lived were the quarry at which he flew ; these he con>- 

* Blank in the original, but no doubt meant for Sir Sammy 
Luke. 



18 HUDIBRAS. 

centrated, and embodied in the persons of Hudibras, 
Ralpho, Sidrophel, &c. ; so that each character in this 
admirable poem should be considered, not as an indivi- 
dual, but as a species." 

To illustrate still further the folly of any such attempted 
identification of persons or events, we will quote a further 
passage from Dr. Nash, to show to what absurd lengths 
the desire of identification has been extended : — " Some 
have thought that the hero of the piece was intended to 
represent the Parliament, especially that part of it which 
favoured the Presbyterian discipline. When in the 
stocks, he personates the Presbyterians after they had 
lost their power : his first exploit is against the Bear, 
whom he routs, which represents the Parliament getting 
the better of the King ; after this great victory he 
courts a widow for her jointure, that is, the riches and 
power of the kingdom ; being scorned by her, he re- 
tires, but the revival of hope to the royalists draws forth 
both him and his squire, a little before Sir George 
Booth's insurrection. Magnano, Cerdon, Talgol, &c, 
though described as butchers, cobblers, tinkers, were de- 
signed as officers in the Parliament army, whose original 
professions, perhaps, were not much more noble ; some 
have imagined Magnano to be the Duke of Albemarle, 
and his getting thistles from a barren land to allude to 
his power in Scotland, especially after the defeat of Booth. 
Trulla, his wife ; Crowdero, Sir George Booth, whose 
bringing in of Bruin alludes to his endeavours to restore 
the King : his oaken leg, called the better one, the 
King's cause ; his other leg, the Presbyterian discipline ; 
his fiddle-case, which in sport they hung on the whip- 
ping-post, the directors. Ralpho, they say, represents 
the Parliament of Independents, called Barebones' Par- 
liament ; Bruin is sometimes the royal person, sometimes 
the King's adherents ; Orsin represents the Royal party, 
Talgol the city of London, Colon the bulk of the people : 
all these, joining together against the knight, represent 
Sir George Booth's conspiracy, with Presbyterians and 
Royalists, against the Parliament : their overthrow, 
through the assistance of Ralpho, means the defeat of 



HUDIBRAS. 19 

Booth by the assistance of the Independents and other 
fanatics." These wild imaginations remind one of the 
unexpected resemblances found by Butler in many of his 
own similes, but without the wit that enlivens them, or 
the deep sense which they illustrate. 

Nothing further is known of Butler till after the Re- 
storation, when Lord Dorset introduced him at court. 
On Nov. 11, 1662, he obtained an imprimatur, signed 
" J. Berkenhead," for printing his poem, the First Part 
of which appeared in the following year ; on Nov. 5, 
1663, he obtained Sir Roger l'Estrange's imprimatur for 
the Second Part, and this appeared in 1664. The Third 
Part was not published till fourteen years afterwards, in 
1678. The impression made by the First Part was sud- 
den and brilliant : it became an immediate favourite with 
the people and the court. Imitations of various degrees 
of merit, but all immeasurably inferior, swarmed ; some 
claiming his paternity, and some as avowed imitations. 
He now became secretary to Richard Earl of Carbury, 
Lord President of Wales ; and about the same time he 
married a lady of the name of Herbert, who possessed, 
it is stated, a handsome fortune, but which he lost " by 
being put out on ill securities/' says the memoir of 1710. 
At any rate, from this time, though not rich, and pro- 
bably not considering himself sufficiently rewarded, he 
seems never to have been in want. He received an or- 
der on the Treasury for 300/., exempted — a gratifying 
mark of attention— from the payment of all fees; and 
this entire sum he conveyed to a friend for the payment 
of his debts, probably occasioned by the embarrassments 
necessarily arising from the loss of his wife's fortune, and 
a striking proof of his rigid integrity. Dr. Zachary 
Pearse, on the authority of Mr. Pearse (given in Gran- 
ger's ' Biographical History of England'), says that he had 
an annual pension of 1001. from Charles ; and in 1667 he 
was made steward of Ludlow Castle. How long he held 
these offices is nowhere stated ; nor is it exactly known 
when he visited France — probably, however, about this 
period — and he has recorded his impressions in a com- 
mon-place book, which was in the possession of Dr. Nash, 



20 HUDIBRAS. 

and were not all favourable to that nation, whether as to 
their language, literature, or the state of the country. 
During this period also he is said to have enjoyed the 
intimacy of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, to 
whom Wood says he was secretary when the Duke was 
Chancellor of Cambridge, but this rests on no good au- 
thority. He, however, was on social terms with the 
Earl of Dorset, and other celebrated wits of the day. 
Indeed, from some verses published by Mr. Thyer, and 
his character of the Duke of Buckingham, it would seem 
that he could have owed no obligations to that nobleman ; 
and Packe, in his ' Life of Wycherley,' relates a story 
of Wycherley's having procured a meeting between the 
two, at which the Duke, after keeping him long in wait- 
ing, left him abruptly to attend to his dissolute pleasures, 
and that Butler was entirely neglected by him. 

The latter part of his life, however, he spent in a 
quiet and studious seclusion in Rose Street, Long Acre ; 
and dying in 1680, was buried at the expense of his 
friend Mr. William Longueville, of the Temple, to 
whom he left his MSS. and papers, and who states he 
left no debts to discharge. " He was buried," says Dr. 
Nash, " at the west end of the said yard, on the north 
side, under the wall of that church (St, Paul's, Covent 
Garden), and under that wall that parts the yard from 
the common highway." He is thus particular, as the 
parishioners, in 1786, erected a monument to his me- 
mory, which states he was buried in the church. In 
1721 Alderman Barber erected one to him in Westmin- 
ster Abbey, which, bearing his own name also, though 
only at the end, gave rise to some witty though ill- 
natured verses by Pope, Samuel Wesley, and others. 

In 1715, 1716, and 1717 were published three small 
volumes, pretending to be the posthumous works of 
Samuel Butler. As a collection it is below criticism, 
and it is wonderful how the public could, for a moment, 
be deceived. Nearly all the pieces are entirely personal, 
and, differing from Butler's, own works, take care to 
leave no doubt-as to the person intended. The whole 
were spurious, with the exception of the Ode to Claude 



HUDIBRAS. 21 

du Val, the noted highwayman, and, perhaps, one or 
two of the pieces in prose, either wholly or in part. 
Notwithstanding the want of merit, several editions, 
with some trifling variations, were sold. In 1734 the 
sixth edition was published. 

One of these pieces, called i The Court Burlesqued/ 
though certainly bearing no marks of Butler's hand or 
mind, possesses considerable talent ; but the first and 
greater part of the poem is disgraced by its obscenity. 
It is true that it is an attack on the profligacy and low 
debauchery of the court of Charles II. and that monarch 
himself, but it is done in the foulest terms, though with 
considerable wit. The latter part delineates the cha- 
racter of the principal statesmen and favourites of the 
court — Clarendon, Buckingham, Shaftesbury, Mon- 
mouth, Danby, Lauderdale, and Rochester. As a spe- 
cimen, we give the portraits of Monmouth and Shaftes- 
bury. 

Forward to fight, in battle wann, 

Although, poor thing, he means no harm, 

Except it is to his own father, 

Or to his popish uncle, rather ; 

Ready in all things to oppose 

His country's friends instead of foes. 

The only idol of the town 

That struts and rattles up and down, 

That all the factious fools, who hope it 

Will one day reign, may view the puppet; 

That they may fill his empty Grace 

With noisy shouts and loud huzzas, 

And make him use his worst endeavours 

T' abuse his king, the best of fathers, 

In hopes he may, by usurpation, 

In time reign tyrant o'er the nation. 

But oh ! remember, Jemmy Scot, 

Thy arms have such a bastard blot, 

That many think thou may"st as soon 

Expect a scaffold as a crown ; 

For he that is so vainly proud 

O' ttY flatteries of a factious crowd, 

Of ruin very seldom fails 

When Fortune turns the ticklish scales. 



22 HUDIBRAS. 

Then shake off the rebellious crew, 
Or else prepare to have thy due ; 
For tho' thou hast been twice forgiven, 
Thou still retain'st the ancient leaven. 
But Jemmy Frog beware the stork, 
Thy father has a brother York. 

There is no mistaking Monmouth in this, and Shaftes- 
bury is as clearly indicated in the following. It may be 
interesting to compare this with Butler's delineation : — 

I Another factious, grave bell-wether 

U. Whose tongue's the devil's backside leather, 

The plague and teazer of the court, 

Whose chief delight's in doing hurt ; 

The head of all the factious clan 

By whom our feuds were first began ; 

The city's god, the rabble's leader, 

A lord, a rebel, and a trader; 

Who keeps bis changes and cabals 

At public halls and festivals : 

An old, rebellious, canting wizard, 

Who loves the Rump with all his gizzard ; 

Hell's journeyman, our plot projector, 

The rebel's patriot and protector, 

So loose, no royal smiles can win him, 

So base, the very devil 's in him ; 

The sower of seditious seeds, 

The planter of rebellious weeds ; 

The quintessence of all that 's naught, 

And yet too cunning to be caught. 

The subtle baffler of the laws, 

The bulwark of the good old cause, 

The fatal firebrand of the nation, 

The spring of all abomination, 

The Cacafogo of the age, 

The Samford of the public stage ; 

The broacher of destructive schism, 

The very tap of devil ism 

Thro' which all sorts of treasons flow, 

That with his dropsic humours grow, 

Yet once was great in the esteem 

Of him that wears the diadem ; 

But still, when high in power and place, 



HUDIBRAS. 23 

The statesman did the judge disgrace 

And shew his nature to be base. 

Thus factious foes, whom kings endeavour 

So oft to win by royal favour, 

Though honours make them less severe, 

Yet still the rebel will appear. 

In the dedication to the second volume of these post- 
humous works, the anonymous editor states, that " most 
of 'em were writ in Mr. Butler's own hand, as will 
appear by their originals, now in the custody of the 
printers ; and that Dunstable Downs, and the tale of the 
Cobbler and the Vicar of Bray, were procured from a 
gentleman whose father was an intimate friend of 
Butler's while he was clerk to Sir Samuel Luke, and to 
whom the manuscripts were given when Butler left Sir 
Samuel Luke's." On the authority of the gentleman, it 
is added, that u the facts were true ;" that Butler wrote 
them while with Sir Samuel, and that he was then 
very young. ' Dunstable Downs ' is a stupid story of 
the prevention of an attempt to inclose the commons by 
Sir Hudibras and Ralph (an almost certain proof of its 
having been written after Butler's poem), by a trick 
something like the goblin adventure, utterly devoid of 
wit, and not even absurd enough to laugh at — in short, 
deplorably dull. ' The Cobbler and the Vicar of Bray ' 
is, in like manner, evidently a production later than the 
* Hudibras,' and is a dull-enough ballad, the chief at- 
tempts at wit being in very indifferent puns, w r hich 
Butler nowhere else adopts : — 

I patch and cobble outward soles, 
As you do those within. 

This is a specimen, and this poor pun is " tortured ten 
thousand ways." 

Of the prose, ' The Assembly Man,' said to be by 
Butler, and * Sir John Birkenhead,' is in the style of the 
really genuine characters given subsequently by Thyers. 
It is somewhat long and spun out, but has wit, as a spe- 
cimen of which we give a short extract : — " 'T was from 
his 'larum the watchmakers learnt their infinite (per- 



•24 



HUDIBRAS. 



petnal) screw. His glass and text are equally handled, 
that is, once an hour ; nay, sometimes he sallies and 
never returns, and then we should leave him to the 
company of lorimers, for he must be held with bit and 
bridle. Whoever once has been at his church can never 
doubt the history of Balaam. If he have got any new- 
tale or expression, 'tis easier to make stones speak than 
him to hold his peace. He hates a church where there 
is an echo, for it robs him of his dear repetition, and 
confounds the auditory as well as he." 

Among the prose pieces is one of a totally different 
character to any other of his works, genuine or spurious, 
being a dull piece of pleading. It is entitled ' The 
Plagiary expos'd : or an Old Answer to a newly revised 
Calumny against the memory of Charles I.,' and pur- 
ports to be a reply to a book entitled ' King Charles's 
Case, formerly written by John Cook, of Gray's Inn, 
barrister; and since copied out under the title of u Col. 
Ludlow's Letter, 1691.'" The anonymous editor says 
it was written forty years ago by Mr. Butler, who in- 
tended to print it, but death prevented him. It is a 
piece of heavy illogical dulness. 

The genuine posthumous works, from the MSS. and 
papers bequeathed to Mr. Longueville, were published 
in two volumes by Mr. Thyers of Manchester in 1710. 
Some of the poems have been given in the later editions, 
and we shall take an opportunity of noticing them, partly 
as illustrating ' Hudibras,' and partly at the close of the 
volume. 

Any disquisition on the merit and character of Butler's 
works would be superfluous. He stands alone, and his 
rank is recognised in the literature of his country, while 
his reputation, though the work has been found inca- 
pable of translation, has extended throughout Europe. 
Voltaire gave a specimen of ' Hudibras ' to his country- 
men, and Colonel Townley translated it entirely ; " but," 
says the ' Biographie Universelle,' ''though familiar 
with our language, he was unable to write with elegance. 
The translation is faithful, but the diction is common- 
place, and the verses are without poetry." To ourselves 



HUIHBRAS. 25 

\ it has seemed very clever, and we rather think that the 
* poetry of which the critic speaks was not to be found in 
the original, and could not, therefore, be transferred. 
He, however, says of the poem itself, "it is full of wit, 
originality, and comic features ; of unexpected turns of 
objects and ideas, which please by the surprise they 
occasion to the mind. It has another merit for the 
English — that of being altogether national ; not only 
does it recall to them events or anecdotes of an interest- 
ing period of their history, but it is still more a picture 
of maimers, of characters, even of ridicule, purely 
English." 

Notwithstanding the merit, the wit and drollery with 
which it is filled, and the comic humours of many of the 
characters and situations, it is truly said that no one ever 
reads Hudibras through. This may arise partly from 
offended prejudices, partly from the coarseness of style 
we have mentioned preventing it from being a book for 
a drawing-room table, partly from the fatigue occasioned 
to the mind by the incessant scintillations of the author's 
wit, but chiefly, we believe, from the uninteresting and 
disconnected nature of the plot. The latter defect it is 
impossible to remedy, but it has been thought, by giving 
a careful analysis of the whole, with copious extracts of 
the most striking, characteristic, and unobjectionable 
passages, with such passing remarks as may be suggested, 
the works of Butler may no longer be considered as a 
sealed book to a great part of our population, or a neg- 
lected one by the remainder, and that his reputation may 
no longer rest upon floating couplets familiar to every 
one, but that the real foundation should be known and 
judged of, each one for himself, whether it ends in con- 
demnation or approval. 



( 26 ) 



HUDIBRAS. 

PART I. — CANTO I. 



The period from the accession of James I. to the de- 
position of James II. was one of progressive revolution 
in England, both in Church and State. Elizabeth was 
the last of our monarchs who was able to exercise any- 
thing like arbitrary power, and while the legitimate 
influence of the middle classes was gradually but surely 
increasing, the pretensions to kingly power became 
under James I. and Charles I. the more extravagant, 
and the exercise of these powers even more absurdly 
vexatious and annoying than really oppressive. There 
was unquestionably a growing earnestness among the 
people in all matters connected with religion ; instead 
of endeavouring to satisfy this feeling, and conduct it in a 
proper direction, James in the year 1617 published his 
famous Book of Sports, ordaining what pastimes ought 
to be used on " Sundays, after evening prayers ended, 
and upon holidays," bear and bull baitings and bowls 
being the only sports interdicted, and these only upon 
such days. That this measure should have revolted 
many of the serious-minded, whether churchmen or dis- 
senters, was what might naturally have been expected, 
but it was not till its re-issue by Charles, in 1633, that 
it developed all the injurious effects it had produced on 
the cause of royalty. During the interval it, of course, 
did not escape unattacked or undefended : polemical 
disputes on this and many similar matters , such as stage- 
plays and dress, became vehicles for the bitterest per- 
sonal invectives and libels, such as those for which 



HUDIBRAS. 27 

Prynne and others of his party were so severely punished, 
nay well explain the irritated feelings of the time, 

When hard words, jealousies, and fears, 
Set folks together by the ears : 

— words of a more important character than those of the 
feeble supposition of Dr. Grey, who imagines that 
Butler alluded to " the cant words used by Presby- 
terians and Sectaries of those times, such as Gospel- 
walking, Gospel- preaching, Soul-saving," &c. ; nor does 
Butler imply, nor was itthe case, that the " hard words" 
were all on the side of the Presbyterian party. Unfor- 
tunately, the " soft answer that turneth away wrath " 
was neglected alike by all. 

It was the issuing of this Book of Sports that pro- 
duced or exaggerated the peculiarities of the non-con- 
formists in opposing those customary observances alluded 
to in the account of Hudibras's religion, which is said to 
have been " Presbyterian true blue." 

A sect, whose chief devotion lies 

In odd perverse antipathies : 

In falling out with that or this, 

And finding somewhat still amiss : 

More peevish, cross, and splenetic, 

Than dog distract or monkey sick. 

That with more care keep holiday 

The wrong, than others the right way : 

Compound for sins they are inclin'd to, 

By damning those they have no mind to. 

Still so perverse and opposite, 

As if they worshipp'd God for spite. 

The self-same thing they will abhor 

One way, and long another for. 

Free-will they one way disavow; 

Another, nothing else allow. 

All piety consists therein 

In them, in other men all sin. 

Rather than fail they will defy 

That which they love most tenderly ; 

Quarrel with minc'd-pies, and disparage 

Their best and dearest friend, plum-porridge ; 



28 BUBIBRAS. 

Fat pig, and goose itself, oppose. 
And blaspheme custard through the nose. 
While such a contest was raging, it was inevitable 
that even good and wise men should differ as to the 
courses they would pursue. The enthusiastic would 
promote change in the hope of improvement ; the cau- 
tious would resist it in the fear of injuring the good 
they possessed ; the rash on both sides were for pro- 
ceeding to extremities at all hazards ; while the selfish 
and the timid, the knaves and the fools, followed the 
paths dictated by their interest, their fears, their hopes, 
or their prejudices. Hudibras and Ralph are ingenious 
compounds of the whole. Butler was a conservative ; and 
had probably always been so. He was not one of those 
' State Converts' he has himself described, " that never 
left rebellion until it left him ;" and his having been a 
clerk to a Presbyterian justice by no means indicates 
that he had ever adopted his employer's principles or 
was guilty of any ingratitude in ridiculing them. He 
has done this most unsparingly, it is true ; but in his 
i Remains,' vol. ii. p. 470 — ' Thoughts on various Sub- 
jects,' we have his more serious opinion, that " All 
reformations of religion seldom extend further than the 
mere opinions of men. The amendment of their lives 
and conversations are equally unregarded by all churches, 
how much soever they differ in doctrine and discipline. 
And though all the reformation our Saviour preached to 
the world was only repentance and amendment of life, 
without taking any notice at all of men's opinions and 
judgments ; yet all the Christian churches take the con- 
trary course, and believe religion more concerned in our 
erroneous opinions than all the most inhuman and im- 
pious actions in the world." It has been well said that 
the Roman Catholic Church itself was reformed by 
Luther's Reformation, and we may well believe that 
dissent was sobered and bettered by the ridicule of 
Butler. 

The wordy war of which we have spoken grew hotter 
and more inveterate. The results were such as might 
have been expected. Both parties, angry and uncon- 



HUDIBRAS. 29 

iliating, were possessed with the same feeling attributed 
to the hero in Canto II., Part II. : — 

Quoth Hudibras, "It is in vain, 
I see, to argue 'gainst the grain ^ 
Or, like the stars, incline men to 
What they 're averse themselves to do .: 
For when disputes are wearied out, 
'T is int'rest still resolves the doubt. 
But since no reason can confute ye, 
I 11 try to force you to your duty." 

All men were now prepared to — 

prove their doctrine orthodox 
By apostolic blows and knocks. 

In what we have hitherto said, we have endeavoured 
incidentally to show that Butler in Hudibras depicted a 
class, and that he no more described a particular indi- 
vidual in the man than he did in the horse he placed 
under him, though no doubt Sir Samuel Luke affords a 
few points of resemblance. A great poet does not con- 
descend to write in riddles. Had he intended a portrait, 
the features would have been too distinctively marked 
to have been misunderstood. Indeed, a most remark- 
able characteristic of the poem is, that though examples 
are selected from the non-conformist party, the satire is 
actually applied to vices or follies of the most general 
kind, in which all sects are involved, and of which all 
men might be participant. The ridicule is in effect 
1 thrown unsparingly on hypocrisy and pretence of what- 
ever kind. With the exception of a very few lines upon 
some of the more prominent, and to a churchman the 
more obnoxious, tenets of their sects, the characters of 
Hudibras and Ralph display nothing necessarily peculiar. 
Royalists might have been, and many were, pedants and 
believers in astrology, subtle hair-splitting disputants, 
and greedy seekers of their own selfish purposes, cow- 
ards and boasters, with as little improbability as repub- 
licans or non-conformists. 

Butler opens his poem with a rapid sketch of the state 
of society at the commencement of the Civil W 7 ar : — 



30 HUDIBKAS. 

When civil dudgeon first grew high, 
And men fell out they knew not why ; 
When hard words, jealousies, and fears 
Set folks together by the ears ; 

When gospel trumpeter, surrounded 
With long-eared rout, to battle sounded; 
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic, 
Was beat with fist instead of a stick ; 
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling, 
And out he rode a colonelling. 

He then proceeds to describe his hero, embodying 
characteristics far too multifarious to suit any individual, 
but exactly fitting the various modifications of a party ; 
— endowing him with wit and scholastic subtlety suffi- 
cient to endow a college, yet holding him up to the most 
unsparing ridicule for their misapplication : — 

A wight he was whose very sight would 
Entitle him, Minor of Knighthood ; 
That never bow'd his stubborn knee 
To anything but chivalry ; 
Nor put up blow, but that which laid 
Right worshipful on shoulder-blade. 

?he fondness for aristocratic distinctions, united with the 
1 sternness and spiritual pride of the party, are here dis- 
tinctly depicted. Of his mental qualifications, the details 
occupy one hundred and seventy lines, attributing to him 
all the pedantic learning, together with its ostentatious 
display, which characterise the writings of many of the 
polemical disputants of the time, and which will be no- 
ticed as we proceed. 

In Hudibras he has delineated with inimitable w r it and 
force the characteristic defects of the sectarian party — 
defects, however, from many of which his own side were 
by no means exempt. For instance : — 

He- was in logic a great critic. 

Profoundly skill'd in analytic ; 

He could distinguish and divide 

A hair 'twixt south and south-west side ; 



HUDIBKAS. 31 

/ 
On either which he would dispute, 
Confute, change hands, and still confute ; 
He 'd undertake to prove, by force 
Of argument, a man 's no horse ; 
He 'd prove a buzzard is no fowl, 
And that a lord may be an owl, 
A calf an alderman, a goose a justice, 
And rooks committee-men and trustees. 
He 'd run in debt by disputation, 
And pay with ratiocination. 
All this by syllogism, true 
In mood and figure, he would do. 

Such acquirements were certainly not confined to Hudi- 
bras's party, nor even to his time. They were the trea- 
sures of the earlier schoolmen, inherited by the learned I 
of all parties, and adopted alike by King James himself/ 
by the Abbots, by Bramhall the opponent of Hobbeg, 
and others of the orthodox party. He was equally great, 
and as little peculiar, in rhetoric and mathematics :- 



For rhetoric, he could not ope 
His mouth but out there flew a trope ; 
And when he happen'd to break off 
I' th' middle of his speech, or cough,* 
H' had hard words, ready to show why, 
And tell what rules he did it by. 
Else when with greatest art he spoke, 
You 'd think he talk'd like other folk. 
For all a rhetorician's rules 
Teach nothing but to name his tools." 
But, when he pleas'd to show "t, his speech 
In loftiness of sound was rich ; 
A Babylonish dialect 
Which learned pedants much affect ; 
It was a par ty-co lour 1 d dress 
Of patch'd and pieball'd languages ; 



7 



* " The practice,*' says Dr. Nash, " was not peculiar to 
England ; for Olivier Maillard, a Cordelier and famous 
oreacher, printed a sermon at Brussels in 1500, and marked 
n the margin where the preacher hemmed once or twice, 
>r coughed." 

c 2 



32 HUDIBRAS. 

'T was English cut on Greek and Latin, 
Like fustian hitherto on satin. 
It had an odd promiscuous tone, 
As if h' had talk'd three parts in one ; 
Which made some think, when lie did gabble, 
Th' had heard three labourers of Babel ; 
Or Cerberus himself pronounce 
A leash of languages at once. 

The literature of the age was indeed essentially meta- 
physical, and Hudibras only resembled a crowd of others 
in that — 

He could reduce all things to acts, 

And knew their natures by abstracts ; 

Where entity and quiddity, 

The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly : 

Where truth in person does appear, 

Like words congeal'd in northern air. 

He knew what 's what, and that "s as high 

As metaphysic wit can fly. 

He could raise scruples, dark and nice, 
And after solve them in a trice ; 
As if divinity had catch'd 
The itch on purpose to be scratch'd ; 
Or like a mountebank, did wound 
And stab herself with doubts profound, 
Only to show with how small pain 
The sores of faith are cur'd again ; 
Altho' by w of ul proof we find 
They always leave a scar behind. 

Of the personal appearance of the hero we must give 
nearly the whole, in order to introduce him thoroughly 
to our readers. Having once made an acquaintance with 
him and his redoubted squire, we can with the greater 
ease remark upon their intellectual qualities while pur- 
suing their adventures or considering their debates : — 

His tawny beard was th' equal grace 

Both of his wisdom and his face ; 

In cut and dye so like a tile, 

A sudden view it would beguile ; 

The upper part thereof was whey, 

The nether orange mix'd with gray. 



HUDIBRAS. 33 

This hairy meteor did denounce 
The fall of sceptres and of crowns. 

His back, or rather burthen, show'd, ' 
As if it stoop'd with its own load ; 

To poise this equally, he bore 

A paunch of the same bulk before ; 

Which still he had a special care 

To keep well cramm'd with thrifty fare ; 

As white-pot, buttermilk, and curds, 

Such as a country-house affords ; 

With other victual, which anon 

We farther shall dilate upon, 

When of his hose we come to treat, 

The cupboard where he kept his meat. 

His doublet was of sturdy buff, 
And tho 1 not sword yet cudgel proof; 
Whereby 't was fitter for his use 
Who fear'd no blows but such as bruise. 

His breeches were of rugged woollen, 
And had been at the siege of Bullen ; 
To old King Harry so well known, 
Some writers held they were his own. 
Thro' they were lin'd with many a piece 
Of ammunition bread and cheese, 
And fat black puddings, proper food 
For warriors that delight in blood. 
For, as we said, he always chose 
To carry victual in his hose, 
That often tempted rats and mice 
The ammunition to surprise : 
And when he put a hand but in 
The one or t' other magazine, 
They stoutly in defence on 't stood, 
And from the wounded foe drew blood ; 
And till th' were storm'd and beaten out, 
Ne'er left the fortified redoubt. 

His puissant sword unto his side, 
Near his undaunted heart was tied; 
With basket hilt, that would hold broth, 
And serve for fight and dinner both. 
In it he melted lead for bullets, 
To shoot at foes, and sometimes pullets ; 



34 HUDIBRAS. 

To whom he bore so fell a grutch, 
He ne'er gave quarter t' any such. 
The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty, 
For want of fighting was grown rusty. 
And ate into itself, for lack 
Of somebody to hew and hack. 
The peaceful scabbard, where it dwelt, 
The rancour of its edge had felt : 
For of the lower end two handful 
It had devoured, it was so manful ; 
And so much scorn'd to lurk in case, 
As if it durst not show its face. 
In many desperate attempts, 
Of warrants, exigents, contempts, 
It had appear'd with courage bolder 
Than Serjeant Bum invading shoulder. 
Oft had he ta'en possession, 
And prisoners too, or made them run. 
This sword a dagger had, his page, 
That was but little for his age ; 
And therefore waited on him so, 
As dwarfs upon knights-errant do. 
It was a serviceable dudgeon, 
Either for fighting or for drudging. 
When it had stabb'd, or broke a head, 
It would scrape trenchers, or chip bread ; 
Toast cheese or bacon, tho' it were 
To bait a mouse-trap 't would not care. 
T would make clean shoes, and in the earth 
Set leeks and onions, and so forth. 
It had been 'prentice to a brewer,* 
Where this and more it did endure ; 






* Whether Cromwell was ever a brewer is certainly doubt- 
ful ; but it was a very common joke at the time. In the 
' Protecting Brewer,' one of the collection of loyal songs, we 
have — 

" And a brewer may be a Lord Protector ; 
Which nobody can deny." 

But if he was not, and there is nothing here to particularise 
him, Colonel Pride had been a brewer, and Colonels Hewson 
and Nott had been brewers' clerks. Quite sufficient ground for 
the allusion. 



HUDIBRAS. 35 

But left the trade, as many more 
Have lately done on the same score. 

In th' holsters at his saddle-bow 
Two aged pistols he did stow, 
Among the surplus of such meat 
As in his hose he could not get. 
These would inveigle rats with th' scent, 
To forage when the cocks were bent ; 
And sometimes catch 'em with a snap. 
As cleverly as th* ablest trap. 
They were upon hard duty still, 
And every night stood centinel, 
To guard the magazine i' th 1 hose 
From two-legg'd and from four-legg'd foes. 

Thus clad and fortified, Sir Knight 
From peaceful home set forth to fight ; 
But first, with nimble active force, 
He got on th' outside of his horse; 
For having but one stirrup tied 
T' his saddle, on the further side, 
It was so short, h 1 had much ado 
To reach it with his desp'rate toe. 
And after many strains and heaves, 
He got up to the saddle eaves ; 
From whence he vaulted into th' seat 
With so much vigour, strength, and heat, 
That he had almost tumbled over 
With his own weight, but did recover 
By laying hold of tail and mane; 
Which oft he used instead of rein. 

But now we talk of mounting steed, 
Before we further do proceed, 
It doth behove us to say something 
Of that which bore our valiant Bumpkin. 
The beast was sturdy, large, and tall, 
With mouth of meal and eyes of wall ; 
I would say eye, for h' had but one, 
As most agree, though some say none. 
He was well stay'd, and in his gait 
Preserv'd a grave, majestic state. 
At spur or switch no more he skipt, 
Or mended pace, than Spaniard whipt : 
And yet so fiery, he would bound 
As if he griev'd to touch the ground : 






38 HUDIBRAS. 

That Caesar's horse, who, as fame goes, 

Had corns upon his feet and toes," 

Was not by half so tender hoof'd, 

Nor trod upon the ground so soft. 

But as that beast would kneel and stoop 

(Some write) to take his rider up, 

So Hudibras his ('tis well known) 

Would often da to set him down. 

We shall not need to say what lack 

Of leather was upon hisjback ; 

For what was hidden under pad, 

And breech of knight, galld full as bad. 

His strutting ribs on both sides shovv'd 

Like furrows he himself had plough'd ; 

For underneath the skirt of pannel, 

'Twixt every two there was a channel. 

His draggling tail hung in the dirt, 

Which on his rider he would flirt,. 

Still as his tender side he prick' d 

With arm'd heel, or with unarm'd kick'd ; 

For Hudibras wore but one spur. 

The character of the squire is delineated with equal 
force and wit : — 

A squire he had whose name was Ralph, f 
That in th' adventure went his half, 
Though writers, for more stately tone, 
Bo call him Ralpbo, 'tis all one : 
And when we can with metre safe, 
We'll call him so ; if not, plain Ralph ; 

* The hoofs of the fore-feet of Caesar's horse were divided 
like the toes of a man (see Montfaucon, vol. ii. p. 58). It 
was not unusual for horses, before the invention of stirrups, to 
be taught to stoop to allow their riders to mount ; and the fact 
is stated directly as to Alexander, though not as to Caesar. 

f It has been attempted to individualize Ralph as well as 
his master. Sir Roger L' Estrange says he was meant for a 
butcher in Moorfields, named Isaac Robinson ; others say, 
Pemble, a tailor. Dr. Grey supposes he was taken from Beau- 
mont and Fletcher's play of ' The Knight of the Burning 
Pestle' — the only point of resemblance being the name; 
others, again, say it was Ralph Bedford, M P. for the town of 
Bedford. 



HUDIBRAS. 37 

(For rliyme the rudder is of verses, 
With which, like ships, they steer their courses). 
An equal stock of wit and valour 
He had lain in ; by birth a tailor. 
The mighty Tyrian queen, that gain'd 
With subtle shreds a tract of land, 
Did leave it with a castle fair 
To his great ancestor, her heir : 
From him descended cross-legged knights, 
Fam"d for their faith, and warlike tights 
Against the bloody cannibal, 
Whom they destroy 'd, both great and small. 
This sturdy squire, he had, as well 
As the bold Trojan knight, seen hell,* 
Not with a counterfeited pass v^L-~-~- 

Of golden bough, but true gold lace. ( 

His knowledge was not far behind 
The knight's, but of another kind, 
And he another way came by it ; 
Some call it gifts, and some new light : 
A liberal art that costs no pains 
Of study, industry, or brains. 
His wit was sent him for a token, 
But in the carriage crack'd and broken, 
Like commendation ninepence, crook'd, 
With — to and from my love, it look'd. 
This ninepence was a common coin prior to the year 
1696, when all the money that was not milled was called 
in. The bending till it became u crooked/' and usable 
as a lover's token, and for similar purposes, survived in 
other coins almost down to our own time, as the num- 
bers of deformed pieces — chiefly the bits of silver that 
passed as sixpences — everywhere seen in circulation but 
a few years ago sufficiently show. 

Ralph is described as an uneducated man, but a be- 
liever in the mystical reveries of Jacob Behmen : — 
As learn'd as the wild Irish are; 
Or Sir Agrippa,f for profound 
And solid lying much renown'd, — 

* A play on the tailor's receptacle for shreds, 
f Cornelius Agrippa, alchemist, astrologer, and physician, 
a learned man, but a great quack, who died in 1535. 

c3 



3b HUDIBRAS. 

in alchemy, astrology, and the Rosicrusian lore : and as 
understanding — 

the speech of birds, 
As well as they themselves do words. 

The remainder of his character, like that of Hudibras, 
is made up rather from the features of a sect than of an 
individual. He is implied, rather than stated, to have 
been an Anabaptist, though the doctrinal points of the 
sect are not always adhered to by Ralph, but one of 
the tenets of the sect was that God made his will known 
to them by special inspiration. This was ridiculed by 
their opponents as the New Light : — 

By means of this, with hem and cough, 

Prolongers to enlighten'd snuff, 

He could deep mysteries unriddle 

As easily as thread a needle. 

For as of vagabonds we say 

That they are ne'er beside their way ; 

Whatever men speak by this New Light, 

Still they are sure to be i 1 th' right. 

T is a dark lanthorn of the spirit, 

Which none see by but those who bear it ; 

A light that falls down from on high, 

For spiritual trades to cozen by ; 

An ignis fatuus that bewitches, 

And leads men into pools and ditches, 

To make them dip themselves, and sound 

For Christendom in dirty pond ; 

To dive, like wild fowl, for salvation, 

And fish to catch regeneration. 

This light inspires and plays upon 

The nose of saint like bagpipe drone, 

And speaks through hollow empty soul, 

As through a trunk, or whisp'ring hole, 

Such language as no mortal ear 

But spiritual eaves-droppers can hear : 

So Phoebus, or some friendly Muse, 

Into small poets song infuse, 

Which they at second-hand rehearse 

Thro' reed or bagpipe, verse for verse. 



HUDIBRAS. 39 

Thus was th' accomplish'd squire endued 

With gifts and knowledge, per'lous shrewd. 

Never did trusty squire with knight, 

Or knight with squire, e'er jump more right. 

Their arms and equipage did fit, 

As well as virtues, parts, and wit. 

Their valours, too, were of a rate, 

And out they sallied at the gate. 

Previous, however, to the first adventure, the poet 
affords a striking example of his dexterous appropriation 
to his adversaries of a general and widely-spread custom 
in the burlesque invocation with which he preludes it. 
After alluding very generally to the customary usage — 

We should, as learned poets use, 

Invoke th 1 assistance of some Muse ; 

However critics count it sillier 

Than jugglers talking t' a familiar ; 

he proceeds to ridicule the* practice of prefacing works 
with commendatory verses and portraits of the authors ; 
a practice, however, adopted by Shakspere and Milton, 
though doubtless imitated by many to whom the world 
afforded no echo of the laudations so bestowed, and takes 
as the representatives of the class three writers from the 
ranks of the Dissenters, one of whom at least, Withers,* 
was infinitely superior to the Durfeys, Shadwells, and 
others of Butler's contemporaries : — 

Thou that with ale, or viler liquors, 

Didst inspire Withers, Prynne, and Vickars, 

And force them, though it was in spite 

Of nature and their stars, to write ; 

Who, as we find in sullen writs, 

And cross-grain'd works of modern wits, 

With vanity, opinion, want, 

The wonder of the ignorant, 

The praises of the author, penned 

B* himself, or wit-insuring friend, 

The itch of picture in the front, 

With bays and wicked rhyme upon't, 

* More correctly Wither, or Wyther : he had been a major 
in the parliamentary army. 



40 HUD1BRAS. 

(All that, is left o 1 th' forked hill) 
To make men sensible without skill ; 
Canst make a poet, spite of Fate, 
And teach all people to translate, 
Though out of languages in which 
They understand no part of speech : 
Assist me but this once, I 'mplore, 
And I shall trouble thee no more. 

Their first adventure is encountering a rabble assem- 
bled at a bear-baiting, which is described with great 
minuteness and humour, and a sly hit is given at the 
sombre character of English amusements, which has been 
often since noticed by foreigners : — 

To this town people did repair 

On days of market or of fair ; 

And to crack'd fiddle and hoarse tabor, 

In merriment did drudge and labour : 

But now a sport more formidable 

Hnd rak'd together village rabble ; 

'T was an old way of recreating, 

By learned butchers called bear-baiting, 

A bold advent'rous exercise, 

With ancient heroes in high prize ; 

For authors do affirm it came 

From Isthmean or Nemean game : 

Others derive it from the bear 

That 's fix'd in northern hemisphere, 

And round about the pole does make 

A circle, like a bear at stake, 

That at the chain's end wheels about, 

And overturns the rabble rout ; 

For, after solemn proclamation 

In the bear's name (as in the fashion, 

According to the law of arms, 

To keep men from inglorious harms), 

That none presume to come so near 

As forty feet of stake of bear. 

The poet here describes exactly the preliminaries of 
the famous bull-runnings of Tutbury in Staffordshire, 
where the " solemn proclamation" was made in these 
words — " That all manner of persons give way to the 
bull, none being to come near him by forty foot, any 



HUDIBRAS. 



41 



:tM#:1> 



if; i/ot 




The Bear at the Stake. 



42 HUDIBBAS. 

way to hinder the minstrels, but to attend to his or their 
own safety, every one at his peril." (Plot's i Stafford- 
shire/) 

The knight's ire, increased no doubt by his remem- 
brance of the ' Book of Sports,' is excited, and he re- 
solves to put it down : — 

Thither the knight his course did steer, 
To keep the peace 'twixt dog and bear ; 
As he believ'd he was bound to do 
In conscience and commission too, 
And therefore thus bespoke the squire : 
" We that are wisely mounted higher 
Than constables in curule wit, 
When on tribunal bench we sit, 
Like speculators should foresee, 
From Pharos of authority, 
Portended mischief farther than 
Low proletarian ty thing-men ; 
And therefore being informed by bruit 
That dog and bear are to dispute ; 
For so of late men fighting name, 
Because they often prove the same ; 
(For where the first does hap to be, 
The last does coincidere), 
Quantum in nobis, have thought good 
To save th' expense of Christian blood, 
And try if we by mediation 
Of treaty and accommodation 
Can end the quarrel, and comp se 
The bloody duel without blows. 
Are not our liberties, our lives, 
The laws, religion, and our wives, 
Enough at once to lie at stake 
For cov'nant and the cause's sake ? 
But in that quarrel dogs and bears, 
As well as we, must venture theirs ? 
This feud, by Jesuits invented, 
By evil counsels is fomented ; 
There is a Machiavelian plot 
(Though every nose olfact it not), 
A deep design in *t to divide 
The well affected that con tide, 



HUDIBEAS. 43 

By setting brother against brother, 

To claw and worry one another. 

Have we not enemies plus satis, 

That cane et angue pejus hate us ? 

And shall we turn our fangs and claws 

Upon our own selves without cause? 

That some occult design doth lie 

In blood Cynarctomachy, 

Is plain enough to him that knows 

How saints lead brothers by the nose. 

I wish myself a pseudo-prophet, 

But sure some mischief will come of it, 

Unless by providential wit 

Or force we averruncate it. 

For what design, what interest 

Can beast have to encounter beast ? 

They fight for no espoused cause, 

Faith, priv'lege, fundamental laws ? 

Nor for a thorough reformation, 

Nor covenant, nor protestation, 

Nor liberty of consciences, 

Nor Lords' nor Commons' ord'nances ; 

Nor for the church, nor for church lands, 

To get them in their own no hands ; 

Nor evil counsellors to bring 

To justice that seduce the king ; 

Nor for the worship of us men, 

Though we have done as much for them. 

He goes on to trace the mysterious and irreligious origin 
of " this lewd anti-Christian game :" but Ralph is an 
Independent as well as an Anabaptist. 

" To this," quoth Ralpho, " verily, 

The point seems very plain to me : 

It is an anti-Christian game, 

Unlawful both in thing an<l name. 

First, for the name : the word bear-baiting 

Is carnal, and of man's creating ; 

For certainly there 's no such word 

In all the scripture on record : 

Therefore unlawful, and a sin ; 

And so is, secondly, the thing. 

A vile assembly 't is, that can 

No more be prov'd by scripture than 



44: HUDIBRAS. 

Provincial, Classic, National, 

Mere human creature- cobwebs all. 

Thirdly, it is idolatrous ; 

For when men run a-whoring thus 

With their inventions, whatsoe'er 

The thing be, whether dog or bear, 

It is idolatrous and pagan, 

No less than worshipping of Dagori.*' 

Quoth Hud i bras, " I smell a rat : 
Ralpho, thou dost prevaricate ; 
For though the thesis which thou lay'st 
Be true, ad amussim, as thou say'st 
(For that bear-baiting should appear, 
Jure divino, law fuller 
Than Synods are, thou dost deny, 
Totidem verbis, so do I ) : 
Yet there 's a fallacy in this : 
For if by sly homaeosis, 
Thou wouldst sophistically imply 
Both are unlawful, I deny." 

"And I," quoth Ralpho, "do not doubt 
But bear-baiting may be made out, 
In gospel times, as lawful as is 
Provincial or parochial classis ; 
And that both are so near of kin, 
And like in all, as well as sin, 
That put 'em in a bag and shake 'em, 
Yourself o' th' sudden would mistake 'em, 
And not know which is which, unless 
You measure by their wickedness : 
For 't is not hard t' imagine whether 
O' th' two are worst, though I name neither." 
This opinion is controverted by the knight, but shortly, 
as he says, 

" this is no fit place, 
Nor time to argue out the case : 
For now the field is not far off, 
Where we must give the world a proof 
Of deeds, not words, and such as suit 
Another manner of dispute ; 
A controversy that affords 
Actions for arguments, not words ; 
Which we must manage at a rate 
Of prowess, and conduct adequate 



HUDIBBAS. 45 

To what our place and fame doth promise, 

And all the godly expect from us.. 

Nor shall they be deceiv'd, unless 

We're slurred and outed by success : 

Success, the mark no mortal wit, 

Or surest hand, can always hit : 

For whatsoe'er we perpetrate, 

We do but row, we 're steered by Fate, 

Which in success oft disinherits. 

For spurious causes, noblest merits. 

Great actions are not always true sons 

Of great and mighty resolutions, 

Nor do the boldest attempts bring forth 

Events still equal to their worth ; 

But sometimes fail, and in their stead 

Fortune and cowardice succeed." 
And then, after quoting the example of Sir Samuel Luke, 
already given, 

as once the Phrygian knight, 

So ours, with rusty steel did smite 

His Trojan horse, and just as much 

He mended pace upon the touch ; 

But from his empty stomach groan'd, 

Just as that hollow beast did sound, 

And angry answer'd from behind, 

With brandish'd tail and blast of wind. 

So have I seen, with armed heel, 

A wight bestride a common-weal ; 
While still the more he kick'd and spurr'd, 
The less the sullen jade has stirr'd. 
We have given rather a long specimen of the knight's 
eloquence, in order to introduce the character of a pedant, 
which is here so admirably exemplified, published among 
Butlers i Genuine Remains in Verse and Prose,' edited 
by Mr. R. Thyer, in two volumes, which, though less 
known, and comparatively scarce, contain such an abun- 
dance of wit and keen observation as to deserve a more 
extended publicity than they have obtained. We shall 
notice the posthumous works subsequently ; but some of 
the prose characters, of which one volume consists, illus- 
trate so admirably some of the passages of the poem, that 
we are induced to place them in apposition. 



46 



HUDIBRAS. 



" A Pedant is a dwarf scholar, that never outgrows the 
mode and fashion of the school where he should have 
been taught. He wears his little learning unmade-up, 
puts it on before it was half finished, without pressing or 
smoothing. He studies and uses words with the greatest 
respect possible, merely for their own sakes, like an 
honest man, without any regard of interest, as they are 
useful and serviceable to things ; and among those he is 
kindest to strangers (like a civil gentleman) that are far 
from their own country and most unknown. He collects 
old sayings and ends of verses as antiquaries do old coins, 
and is glad to produce them upon all occasions. He has 
sentences ready lying by him for all purposes, though to 
no one, and talks of authors as familiarly as his fellow - 
collegiates. He will challenge acquaintance with those 
he never saw before, and pretend to intimate knowledge 
of those he has only heard of. He is well stored with 
terms of art, but does not know how to use them ; like a 
country fellow who carries his gloves in his hands, not 
his hands in his gloves. He handles arts and sciences 
like those that can play a little upon an instrument, but 
do not know whether it be in tune or not. He converses 
by the book, and does not talk, but quote. If he can but 
screw in something that an ancient writer said, he be- 
lieves it to be much better than if he had something of 
himself to the purpose. His brain is not able to concoct 
what it takes in, and therefore brings things up as they 
were swallowed, that is, crude and undigested, in whole 
sentences, not assimilated sense, which he rather affects ; 
for his want of judgment, like want of health, renders 
his appetite preposterous. He pumps for affected and 
far-fetched expressions, and they always prove as far 
from the purpose. He admires canting above sense. 
He is worse than one that is utterly ignorant, as a cock 
that sees a little fights worse than one that is stark blind. 
He speaks a different dialect from other men, and much 
affects forced expressions, forgetting that hard words, as 
well as evil ones, corrupt good manners. He can do 
nothing, like a conjurer out of the circle of his art, nor 
in it, without canting." 



HUDIBRAS. 47 



PART I. — CANTO II. 

This Canto, according to the argument prefixed, contains 

The catalogue and character 
Of th' enemy's best men of war ; 
Whom in a bold harangue, the knight 
Defies, and challenges to fight : 
H' encounters Talgol, routs the bear, 
And takes the fiddler prisoner ; 
Conveys him to enchanted castle, 
And shuts him up in wooden Bastile, 

This is literally all the action detailed in the eleven hun- 
dred and seventy-nine lines of the canto, and which is 
filled instead with satire of the purest, the truest, and the 
most discursive kind. Butler's error, considered artisti- 
cally, was in selecting too trivial a subject as the medium 
of conveying his thoughts to the world. He not only did 
this, but he took a side, 

16 And to party gave up what was meant for mankind." 
Friends and foes have alike joined in punishing him for 
this, by refusing, or at least neglecting, to see much 
beyond this. Churchmen have said, " See the character 
of the men of the great rebellion !" and contend for its 
personages and adventures as for true history ; dissenters 
have objected to it as vulgar ribaldry. The learned and 
laborious Dr. Zachary Grey, in the preface to his edition 
of Hudibras, says, " The reader, 't is hoped, will better 
apprehend and relish the satire couched in this poem 
w T hen he is acquainted with the persons and transactions 
at which it is levelled." He adds, that in all previous 
editions it had been generally supposed il that those re- 
nowned champions Crowdero, Orsin, Talgol, Magnano, 
Cerdon, Colon, and the brave heroine Trulla, were only 
imaginary persons, from whence many have concluded 
these adventures to be romantic and fabulous, instead of 
true history,'* as he undertakes to prove them to be ; and 
gives, on the authority of Sir Roger L'Estrange, " who, 
being personally acquainted with the poet, undoubtedly 



48 HUDIBRAS. 

received the secret from him," what he considers the 
facts of this history. 

This secret and these facts consist in telling us that 
Crowdero was one Jackson, a milliner in the Strand ; 
that Orson was Joshua Gostling, the keeper of the 
bears at Paris Garden; that Talgol " was a butcher in 
Newgate Market, who afterwards obtained a captain's 
commission for his rebellious bravery at Naseby," &c. 
But what does this information furnish ? A fiddler, a 
bear-ward and his bear, a butcher with his dog, an ostler, 
a travelling tinker with his doxy, and a cobbler, are, 
we may almost say, the necessary constituents of a bear- 
baiting mob, and what is there in the poem characteristic 
of an individual ? Did the u butcher in Newgate 
Market" make the speech commencing 
thou vermin wretched 

As e'er in measled pork was hatched ; 

Thou tail of worship, that dost grow 

On rump of justice, as of cow ? 
If not, the secret amounts to no more than that there 
was a " butcher in Newgate Market" who went to a 
bear-bait ; and the same of the rest — a fact we can 
readily admit, and also that the author knew this im- 
portant fact. But as to its increasing our relish of the 
satire, that we altogether deny. Indeed, with regard 
to the butcher, the speech is so little in unison with 
what had been previously stated, that Dr. Grey is com- 
pelled to suppose that " probably Talgol might then be 
a cavalier," " notwithstanding Sir Roger L" Estrange 
(his only authority) has asserted to the contrary." 

We are extremely anxious, perhaps unnecessarily so, 
to clear the poem from the exaggerated importance 
attributed to its political tendency. That Butler was a 
hearty and even passionate royalist and churchman we 
may admit — too good a one, we have no doubt, to have 
acknowledged for a moment that by such characters as he 
has here exhibited the downfall of the hierarchy and 
monarchy had been effected, and the gallant cavaliers 
combated and defeated. He believed in no such de- 
grading impossibility, but he placed in the mouths, or 



HUDIBRAS. 49 

on the shoulders, of low and ridiculous imaginary person- 
ages, the culled absurdities of doctrine, peculiarities of 
expression, and the culpable actions, of any of the 
parties or sects opposed to his own, perhaps even some 
personal features of individuals, interspersing the whole 
with his own never-failing wit, and honest exposure of 
and scorn for mere pretence, wherever existing. 
J Bear-baiting was by no means a peculiarly puritani- 
cal amusement, but rather the contrary. It had been 
patronised by monarchs, and supported by the aristo- 
cracy. Mr. J. P. Collier, in his ' Memoirs of Edward 
Alley n, the founder of Dulwich College,' informs us, 
that when he wished to, indeed when he did, retire 
from the stage, "he was compelled, by virtue of his 
office of Master of the Games,'* which he held from the 
king, "to superintend the affairs of the Bear Garden." 
By the patent of his office " he was authorised ' to take 
up' any bears, bulls, or dogs, in any part of the king- 
dom, for the service of his majesty, on payment of what 
might be considered a reasonable price." This power 
was deputed, and Mr. Collier has given a curious case 
of dispute arising from the attempt to take a gentleman's 
dog in Cheshire, but who charged the deputy dog- 
providers " for his majesty's service " with theft, and 
the justices only refrained from committing them on 
" seeing the great seal of England, and their deputa- 
tions." But these rude sports had a stronger hold upon 
the popular feelings than the vanities, as they were 
called, of dress, or dancing, or music, or church rituals. 
Many a one could subdue his respect for plum-por- 
ridge who could not refrain from enjoying a bout at 
single-stick, or attending a bear or bull-bait, or par- 
taking in a game of foot-ball. Of course, such persons 
were not religious leaders, but they were often hearty 
followers. Notwithstanding what Dr. Grey has said of 
the characters of the heroes on this occasion, we think 
an unprejudiced person w T ill discover but few puritanical 
features in their description, with the exception of 
Cerdon the cobbler, who is said to be a preacher, and 
of course as such must have been a dissenter. The cha- 



£0 HUDIBRAS. 

racters indeed are merely sketches —it is the illustrations 
that gem the frame- work in such rich profusion that 
constitute the real attraction of the poem. 

The canto commences with some exquisite banter on 
some of the peculiarities of romance- writers, philosophers, 
and metaphysicians. The first couplet contains an 
amusing and intended anachronism : the " sage philo- 
sopher" is Empedocles, who taught that love was the 
formative principle, and hate or discord the destructive 
principle, which governed the four primary elements, 
earth, air, fire, and water, all things being but the vari- 
ous main-springs of these four;* and he is said to have 
a read Alexander Ross over,*' a voluminous writer, and 
chaplain to Charles I. 

There was an ancient sage philosopher, 
That had read Alexander Ross over; 
And swore the world, as he could prove, 
Was made of righting and of love : 
Just so romances are, for what else 
Is in them all but love and battles ? 
O" th' first of these we *ve no great matter 
To treat of, but a world o' th' latter : 
In which to do the injur' d right — 
We mean in what concerns just fight. 
Certes our authors are to blame, 
For to make some well-sounding name, 
A pattern tit for modern knights, 
To copy out in frays and fights 
(Like those that a whole street do raze, 
To build a palace in the place), 
They never care how many others 
They kill, without regard of mothers, 
Or wives, or children, so they can 
Make up some fierce dead- doing man, 
Composed of many ingredient valours, 
Just like the manhood of nine tailors : 
So a wild Tartar, when he spies 
A man that "s handsome, valiant, wise, 



* See Lewes's ' Biog. Hist, of Philosophy,' Series I. Vol. i. ? 
i Knight's ' Weekly Volume/ 



HUDIBKAS. 51 

If lie can kill him, thinks t' inherit 
His wit, his beauty, and his spirit : 
As if just so much he enjoyed, 
As in another is destroy'd. 

The next laugh is at the atomic philosophers, ancient 
and modern, who held that life and sensation are gene- 
rated out of matter, and, therefore, nothing but local 
motion and mechanism ; even Robert Boyle notices, in 
his ' Experiments,' how much all animals except man re- 
semble mechanical instruments, or, as Butler expresses 
it, " whipp'd tops and bandied balls." The allusion to 
Indian Britons being invented from Penguins, is a joke 
upon his friend Selden, and others, who held the theory, 
since so beautifully developed by Southey in his poem 
of ' Madoc/ that America had been peopled from Wales, 
deriving one of their proofs from the word Penguin, 
said to have been the native name for a bird with a white 
head, and in Welsh signifying a white rock or head of 
land. 

They now begun 

To spur their living engines on. 

For as whipp'd tops, and handy'd balls 

The learned hold are animals ; 

So horses they affirm to be, 

Mere engines made by geometry ; 

And were invented first from engines, 

As Indian Britons were from penguins. 

The Knight and Squire are represented as proceeding 
Until they reach 'd the fatal champain 
Which tli' enemy did then encamp on ; 
The dire Pharsalian plain, where battle 
Was to be wag'd 'twixt puissant cattle, 
And fierce auxiliary men 
That came to aid their brethren ; 
Who now began to take the field, 
As knight from ridge of steed beheld ; 
For as our modern wits behold 
Mounted a pck-back on the old, 
Much further off, much further he 
Raised on his aged beast could see. 
rhis last allusion is to the question, then warmly con- 



52 HUDIBRAS. 

tested, as to the superiority of ancient or modern learn- 
ing, in which Boyle, Temple, Swift, and many others 
took an active part. 

I' th' head of all this warlike rabble, 

Crowdero marched, expert and able. 

Instead of trumpet and of drum. 

That makes the warrior's stomach come, 

Whose noise whets valour sharp, like beer 

By thunder turned to vinegar; 

(For if a trumpet sound, or drum beat, 

Who has not a month's mind to combat ?) 

A squeaking engine he anplied, 

Unto his neck on north-east side, 

Just where the hangman does dispose, 

To special friends the knot of noose : 

For 't is great grace when statesmen straight 

Dispatch a friend, let others wait. 

With the addition that 

His grisly beard was long and thick, 
With which he strung his fiddlestick ; 

and that at a bull-baiting in Staffordshire 
his leg, then broke, 
Had got a deputy of oak, 

we have the whole of the materials found sufficient for 
identifying Crowdero with Jackson the milliner in the 
Strand, who lost his leg in the service of the Round- 
heads and then became a fiddler. The succeeding figure 
is the " marshal to the champion Bear :" 
This leader was of knowledge great, 
Either for charge, or for retreat. 
He knew when to fall on pell-mell, 
To fall back and retreat as well. 
So lawyers, lest the bear defendant, 
And plaintiff dog, should make an end on 't, 
Do stave and tail with writs of error, 
Reverse of judgment, and demurrer, 
To let them breathe awhile, and then 
Cry whoop, and set them on again. 
As Romulus a wolf did rear, 
So he was dry-nursed by a bear, 



HUDIBRAS. 53 

That fed him with the purchased prey 

Of many a fierce and bloody fray ; 

Bred up, where discipline most rare is, 

In military Garden Paris. 

For soldiers heretofore did grow 

In gardens, just as weeds do now ; 

Until some splay-foot politicians 

T' Apollo offered up petitions, 

For licensing a new invention 

Th' ad found out of an antique engine, 

To root out all the weeds that grow 

In public gardens at a blow, 

And leave th 1 herbs standing. Quoth Sir Sun, 

" My friends, that is not to be done." 

" Not done ?" quo' statesmen ; u yes, an 't please ye, 

When 'tis once known, you'll say 'tis easy/' 

" Why then let 's know it," quoth Apollo : 

" We '11 beat a drum, and they 11 all follow." 

" A drum ! (quoth Phoebus) troth that 's true, 

A pretty invention, quaint and new. 

But though of voice and instrument 

We are th' undoubted president ; 

We such loud music don't profess, 

The Devil s master of that office, 

Where it must pass, if "t be a drum, 

He 11 sign it with Cler. Pari. Dom. Com.* 

To him apply yourselves, and he 

Will soon dispatch you for his fee."f 

They did so, but it prov'd so ill, 

Th' ad better let 'em grow there still. 

But to resume what we discoursing 

Were on before, that is, stout Orsin : 

That which so oft by sundry writers 

Has been apply'd t' almost all fighters, 

More justly may b' ascrib'd to this, 

Than any other warrior (viz.) 



* During the predominance of the Parliament, patents 
were granted, and ordinances issued by them, signed by their 
clerk, with these contractions appended to his name — Clerk of 
the Parliament House of Commons. 

f This passage is an adaptation of one in Boccalini's * Adver- 
tisement from Parnassus,' ed. 1656. 

D 



54 HUDIBRAS. 

None ever acted both parts bolder, 

Both of a chieftain and a soldier. 

He was of great descent and high, 

For splendour and antiquity, 

And from celestial origin e 

Deriv'd himself in a right line. 

Not as the ancient heroes did, 

Who, that their base births might be hid 

(Knowing they were of doubtful gender, 

And that they came in at a windore), 

Made Jupiter himself, and others 

O' th' gods, gallants to their own mother?, 

To get on them a race of champions, 

(Of which old Homer first made lampoons) 

Arctophylax in northern sphere 

Was his undoubted ancestor ; 

From him his great forefathers came, 

And in all ages bore his name : 

Learned he was in medVnal lore, 

For by his side a pouch he wore, 

Replete with strange hermetic powder, 

That wounds nine miles point blank would solder, 

By a skilful chemist with great cost 

Extracted from a rotten post. 

After the character of the champion, that of the Bear 
himself is given : 

He was by birth, some authors write, 

A Russian, some a Muscovite : 

And 'mong the Cossacks had been bred, 

Of whom we in diurnal s read ; 

That serve to fill up pages here, 

As with their bodies ditches there. 

Scrimansky was his cousin-german, 

With whom he serv'd and fed on vermin : 

And when these fail'd, he 'd suck his claws, 

And quarter himself upon his paws. 

This will seem as familiar to those who remember the 
Russian campaigns of the present century, as to those 
who recurred to the contests between Peter the Great 
and Charles XII. of Sweden. Nor will it be more 
difficult to make application of the following lines from 
the description of Talgol, " mortal foe to cows," from 



HUDIBRAS. 55 

the device of making the doctor epidemic as well as the 
disease, to the comparison of the slaughterer of cows and 
.lies with the conquerors of the world, and from him to 
the murderer conducted to execution. The whole is in 
the most exquisite humour, united with the very best 
feelings of humanity : — 

Right many a widow his keen blade, 

And many fatherless, had made. 

He many a bear and huge dun-cow 

Did like another Guy o'erthrow. 

But Guy, with him in fight compar'd, 

Had like the bear or dun-cow far'd, 

With greater troops of sheep h' had fought 

Than Ajax, or bold Don Quixot ; 

And many a serpent of fell kind, 

With wings before, and stings behind, 

Subdu'd : as poets say, long agone 

Bold Sir George, Saint George did the dragon. 

Nor engine, nor device polemic, 

Disease nor doctor epidemic, 

Tho' stor'd with deletery med'cines, 

(Which whosoever took is dead since) 

E'er sent so vast a colony 

To both the under worlds as he. 

For he was of that noble trade, 

That demi-gods and heroes made, 

Slaughter and knocking on the head ; 

The trade to which they all were bred ; 

And is, like others, glorious when 

'T is great and large, but base if mean. 

The former rides in triumph for it ; 

The latter in a two-wheel'd chariot, 

For daring to profane a thing 

So sacred, with vile bungling. 

Magnano, the tinker, is said by L'Estrange to have been 
one Simon Wait, but as the poem says — 

In magic he was deeply read 

As he that made the brazen head, &c. 

it is more than probable that a fortune-telling gipsy is 
meant. His companion also, Trulla, partakes of that 
character : — 

d 2 



56 HUDIBRAS. 

Thro' thick and thin she followed him, 
In ev'ry adventure h' undertook, 
And never him or it forsook ; 
At breach of wall, or hedge surprise, 
She shar'd i' th' hazard and the prize. 
At beating quarters up, or forage, 
Behav'd herself with matchless courage, 
And laid about in fight more busily 
Than the Amazonian dame Penthesile. 

The poet here turns aside to ridicule the poems of 
chivalry, in which warlike heroines are introduced, add- 
ing an additional stroke on Sir Wm. Davenant, who, in 
his preface to Gondibert, endeavours to show that govern- 
ment can scarcely exist without the aid of poetry : — 

And tho' some critics here cry shame, 

And say our authors are to blame, 

That (spite of all philosophers, 

Who hold no females stout, but bears ; 

And heretofore did so abhor 

That women should pretend to war ; 

They would not suffer the stout'st dame 

To swear by Hercules's name) 

Make feeble ladies, in their works, 

To fight like termagants and Turks r 

To lay their native arms aside, 

Their modesty, and ride astride ; 

To run a tilt at. men, and wield 

Their naked tools in open field: 

As stout Armida, bold Thalestris, 

And she that would have been the mistress 

Of Gundibert; but he had grace, 

And rather took a country lass : 

They say "t is false, without all sense, 

But of pernicious consequence 

To government, which they suppose 

Can never be upheld in prose : 

Strip Nature naked to the skin, 

You '11 find about her no such thing. 

It may be so, yet what we tell 

Of Trulla, that 's improbable, 

Shall be depos'd by those have seen r t, 

Or what's as good, produc'd in print : 



HUDIBRAS. 



57 



And if they will not take our word, 
We'll prove it true upon record. 
^"The upright Cerdon," the cobbler, the repairer of 
wrongs, is the next personage, and much of his por- 
traiture consists of a humorous description of his trade, 
and that seems to lead, by a species of association, to 
the attributing to him somewhat of a sectarian character, 
by mingling it with the conceits applicable to his trade. 
As a cobbler, 

Fast friend he was to reformation, 
Until 't was worn quite out of fashion. 
Next rectifier of wry law, 
And would make three to cure one flaw. 
Learned he was, and could take note, 
Transcribe, collect, translate, and quote. 
But preaching was his chiefest talent, 
Or argument, in which being valiant, 
He used to lay about and stickle 
Like ram or bull at conventicle : 
For disputants, like rams and bulls, 
Do fight with arms that spring from skulls. 

It will be seen how readily the verbal play on the 
technical terms leads to the addition of his preaching. 
There are many Cerdons yet existing in other places 
besides conventicles. 

Last Colon came, bold man of war, 

Destin'd to blows by fatal star ; 

Right expert in command of horse, 

But cruel, and without remorse. 

That which of Centaur long ago 

Was said, and has been wrested to 

Some other knights, was true of this, 

He and his horse were- of a piece. 

One spirit did inform them both, 

The self-same vigour, fury, wroth ; 

Yet he was much the rougher part, 

And always had the harder heart : 

too true and too common a description of the cruelty 
arising from the mere possession of animal vigour with 
the absence of all consideration in uneducated men 
who have control over animals. 



58 HTJDIBRAS. 

These were the leaders — 

From foreign parishes, and regions, 
Of different manners, speech, religions, 
Came men and mastiffs. 
And to these " men and mastiffs " Hudibras is made to 
address a speech remonstrating against their proceed- 
ings, as derogatory to the cause in which he assumes 
they as well as himself were engaged, the beginning of 
which is imitated from Lucan's 4 Pharsalia/ lib. i. He 
says — 

For if bear-baiting we allow, 
What good can reformation do ? 

and then proceeds, in reality, to ridicule the universal 
passion for political and religious discussions, which then 
pervaded the nation, — the strokes, however, applying 
quite as much to the royalist as to the dissenting party, 
particularly as to the plate subscription, the king, or 
some one for the parliament, giving notes of hand for 
its receipt, many of which are yet existing. 

Did they, for this, draw down the rabble, 

With zeal and noises formidable ; 

And make all cries about the town 

Join throats to cry the bishops down ? 

Who having round begirt the palace, 

(As once a month they do the gallows) 

As members gave the sign about, 

Set up their throats with hideous shoul. 

Then tinkers bawl'd aloud to settle 

Church discipline, for patching kettle : 

No sow-gelder did blow his horn 

To geld a cat, but cry'd reform. 

The oyster-women lock'd their fish up, 

And trudg'd away to cry, no bishop. 

The mouse-trap men laid save-alls by, 

And 'gainst ev'l counsellors did cry. 

Botchers left old clothes in the lurch, 

And fell to turn and patch the church. 

Some cry'd the covenant, instead 

Of pudding, pies, and ginger- bread. 

And some for brooms, old boots and shoes, 

Bawl'd out to purge the Commons' house : 



HUD1BRAS. 59 

Instead of kitchen-stuff, some cry 

A gospel preaching ministry ; 

And some for old suits, coats, or cloak, 

No surplices, nor service-book. 

A strange harmonious inclination 

Of all degrees to reformation. 

And is this all ? is this the end 

To which these earnings on did tend ! 

Hath public faith, like a young heir, 

For this tak'n up all sorts of ware, 

And run int' ev'ry tradesman's book, 

Till both turn'd bankrupts, and are broke ? 

Did saints for this bring in the plate ? 

And crowd as if they came too late? 

For when they thought the cause had need on 't, 

Happy was he that could be rid on 't. 

Did they coin piss-pots, bowls, and flagons, 

Int' officers of horse and dragoons ; 

And into pikes and musketeers 

Stampt beakers, cups, and porringers ? 

A thimble, bodkin, and a spoon, 

Did start up living men, as soon 

As in the furnace they were thrown, 

Just like the dragon's teeth b'ing sown. 

Then was the cause all gold and plate, 

The brethren's offerings, consecrate 

Like th' Hebrew calf, and down before it 

The saints fell prostrate, to adore it : 

In the course of the address, however, the poet con- 
trives to have a hit at his own party. In the convoca- 
tion which sat in 1640 an oath was promulgated for the 
clergy to take, of which part of the form was " nor 
will I ever give my consent to alter the government of 
this church by archbishops, bishops, deans, archdeacons, 
&c." Dr. Heylin, a member of the convocation, de- 
clared the et cetera was left in by mistake, but Butler, 
notwithstanding, makes his hero ask — 

What did we else, but make a vow 
To do we know not what, nor how % 
For no three of us will agree 
Where or what churches these should be. 



60 HUDIBEAS. 

And is indeed the self-same case 
With theirs that swore f et ceteras ; 

Talgol replies to him in a violent attack on the par- 
liamentary party, by no means likely to proceed from 
one who had fought for it • in fact the inconsistencies, if 
any individual is pre-supposed, are innumerable ; a few 
lines will show its character — 

" Could thine impertinence find out 
f ^ i No work t' employ itself about, 

Where thou, secure from wooden blow, 

Thy busy vanity mightst show ? 

Was no dispute a-foot between 

The caterwauling brethren ? 

No subtle question rais'd among 

Those out-o-their wits, and those i' th' wrong j 

No prize between those combatants 

O' th' times, the land and water saints : 

Where thou mightst stickle without hazard 

Of outrage to thy hide and mazzard ; 

And not for want of bus'ness come 

To us to be thus troublesome, 

To interrupt our better sort 

Of disputants, and spoil our sport? 

Was there no felony, no bawd, 

Cut-purse, nor burglary abroad 1 ? 

No stolen pig, nor plunder' d goose, 

To tie thee up from breaking loose? 

No ale unlicens'd, broken hedge, 

For which thou statute mightst allege, 

To keep thee busy from foul evil, 

And shame due to thee from the Devil ? 

Did no committee sit, where he 

Might cut out journey-work for thee ? 

And set th' a task, with subornation, 

To stitch up sale and sequestration, 

To cheat, with holiness and zeal, 

All parties and the common-weal? 

Much better had it been for thee, 

H' had kept thee where th* art us'd to be ; 

Or sent th* on bus'nessany whither, 

So he had never brought thee hither." 



HUDIBRAS. 61 

A humorous relation of the affray succeeds, in which — 
With many a stiff thwack, many a bang, 
Hard crab-tree and old iron rang. 

The knight endeavours to use his pistol against Talgol, 
But Pallas came in shape of rust, 

and, like the deities so frequent in Homer and Virgil, 
saved the combatant ; and Hudibras then drew his sword, 
yet not so fast, 

But Talgol first, with hardy thwack, 

Twice bruised his head, and twice his back ; 

But when his nut-brown sword was out, 

With stomach huge he laid about, 

Imprinting many a wound upon 

His mortal foe, the truncheon ; 

The trusty cudgel did oppose 

Itself against dead-doing blows, 

To guard its leader from fell bane, 

And then reveng'd itself again. 

And tho' the sword (some understood ) 

In force had much the odds of wood, 

'T was nothing so : both sides were balanc'd 

So equal, none knew which was valiant'st ; 

For Wood, with Honour b'ing engag'd, 

Is so implacably enrag'd ; 

Tho' Iron hew and mangle sore, 

Wood wounds and bruises Honour more. 

Ralph encounters Colon in " dismal combat/' 
' Until Magnano, who did envy 

That two should with so many men vie, 
1 By subtle stratagem of brain 

Perform'd what force could ne'er attain ; 
For he, by foul hap, having found 
Where thistles grew on barren ground, 
In haste he drew his weapon out, 
And having cropp'd them from the root, 
He clapp'd them underneath the tail 
Of steed, with pricks as sharp as nail. 

The tormented beast 

Began to kick, and fling, and wince, 
As if h' had been beside his sense, 

B 3 



62 HUDIBRAS. 

Striving to disengage from thistle, 

That gall'd him sorely under his tail : 

Instead of which, he threw the pack 

Of squire and baggage from his back ; 
and blundering on, gave the knight's steed such a thump, 
that he reeled with the shock. Talgol took advantage 
of the opportunity, and catching Hudibras by the " nearer 
foot," 

He lifted with such might and strength 

As would have hurl'd him thrice his length, 

And dash'd his brains (if any) out ; 

But Mars, that still protects the stout, 

In pudding-time came to his aid, 

And under him the bear convey *d ; 

The bear, upon whose soft fur gown 

The knight with all his weight fell down. 
The bear, affrighted, breaks loose, and quickly disperses 
those who could use their legs ; 

Some he o'erran, and some o'erthrew, 

But took none ; for by hasty flight 

He strove t 1 escape pursuit of knight, 

From whom he fled with as much haste 

And dread as he the rabble chas'd. 

In haste he fled, and so did they, 

Each and his fear a several way. 
But Hudibras was lying " in a swound," and the fiddler, 
whose wooden leg had been broken, commenced using 
the fragment upon the fallen knight, when Ralpho, re- 
covering from his fall, 

Wing'd with speed and fury, flew 

To rescue knight from black and blue ; 

succeeds in subduing the unfortunate cripple, and then 

devotes his care to his master : — 

To rouse him from lethargic dump 
He tweak'd his nose ; with gentle thump 
Knock'd on his breast, as if f t had been 
To raise the spirits lodg'd within. 
They, wakend with the noise, did fly 
From inward room to window eye, 
And gently opening lid, the casement 
Look'd out, but yet with some amazement. 



HUDIBIiAS. 



63 




64 HUDIBRAS. 

The pair then debate the fate of Crowdero. The 
knight is for slaying him outright, but the squire urges — 
Great conq'rors greater glory gain 
By foes in triumph led, than slain : 
The laurels that adorn their brows 
Are pull'd from living, not dead boughs, 
And living foes : the greatest fame 
Of cripple slain can be but lame. 
One half of him *s already slain, 
The other is not worth your pain ; 
Th' honour can but on one side light, 
As worship did when y' were dubb'd knight. 
Wherefore I think it better far 
* To keep him prisoner of war. 

Hudibras approves of the squire's advice, and directs him 
to tie Crowdero's hands behind him, and to replace his 
wooden leg — 

But force it take an oath before, 

Ne'er to bear arms against him more, 

in ridicule of the practice of obliging prisoners to take 
such oaths. This having been done, 

He gave Sir Knight the end of cord, 
To lead the captive of his sword 
In triumph, whilst the steeds he caught, 
And them to further service brought. 
The squire in state rode on before, 
And on his nut-brown whinyard bore 
The trophy fiddle and the case, 
Leaning on shoulder like a mace. 
The knight himself did after ride, 
Leading Crowdero by his side ; 
And tow'dhim, if he lagg'd behind, 
Like boat against the tide and wind. 
Thus grave and solemn they march* d on, 
Until quite thro' the town th* had gone ; 
At further end of which there stands 
An ancient castle that commands 
Th 1 adjacent parts ; in all the fabric 
You shall not see one stone nor a brick, 
But all of wood by pow'rful spell 
Of magic made impregnable ; 



HUDIBRAS. 

There 's neither iron bar nor gate, 

Portcullis, chain, nor bolt, nor grate, 

And yet men durance there abide, 

In dungeons scarce three inches wide ; 

With roof so low that under it 

They never stand, but lie or sit; 

Arid yet so foul, that whoso is in, 

Is to the middle leg in prison ; 

In circle magical connn'd, 

With wall of subtile air and wind, 

Which none are able to break thorough, 

Until they 're freed by head of borough. 

Thither arriv'd, th' adventurous knight 

And bold squire from their steeds alight, 

At th' outward wall, near which there stands 

A bastile, built t' imprison hands ; 

By strange enchantment made to fetter 

The lesser parts, and free the greater ; 

For tho' the body may creep through, 

The hands in grate are fast enow. 

And when a circle 'bout the wrist 

Is made by beadle exorcist, 

The body feels the spur and switch, 

As if 'i were ridden post by witch 

At twenty miles an hour pace, 

And yet ne'er stirs out of the place. 

On top of this there is a spire, 

On which Sir Knight first bids the Squire, 

The fiddle, and its spoils, the case, 

In manner of a trophy, place ; 

That done, they ope the trap-door gate, 

And let Crowdero down thereat. 

Crowdero making doleful face ; 

Like hermit poor in pensive place, 

To dungeon they the wretch commit, 

And the survivor of his feet : 

But th' other that had broke the peace, 

And head of knighthood, they release, 

Tho' a delinquent false and forg'd, 

Yet being a stranger he 's enlarged ; 

While his comrade, that did no hurt, 

Is clapp'd up fast in prison for 't. 

So Justice, while she winks at crimes, 

Stumbles on innocence sometimes. 



66 



HUDIBRAS. 



PART I. — CAKTO III. 



The third Canto of the first Part contains the continu- 
ance and final result of the ' adventure of the Bear and 
Fiddle/ and this result is indicated in the introduction to 
the Canto, which, though expressed with such playful 
familiarity as to force us to smile, contains a philosophy 
verified by the experience of ages : — 

Ah me ! what perils do environ 
The man that meddles with cold iron ! 
What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps 
Do dog him still with after- claps ! 
For tho' dame Fortune seem to smile 
And leer upon him for a while, 
She'll after show him, in the nick 
Of all his glories, a dog-trick. 

The rabble had recovered from their fright, and their 
first thoughts were given to the recovery of their bear, 
and to revenge themselves on the cause of its loss. The 
poor flying animal had been pursued by the dogs, until 

Attack'd by th' enemy i' the rear, 
Finding their number grew too great 
For him to make a safe retreat, 



he, 



Like a bold chieftain, fac'd about ; 
But wisely doubting to hold out, 
Gave way to fortune, and with haste 
Fac'd the proud foe, and fled, and fac'd ; 
Retiring still, until he found 
H* had got th' advantage of the ground ; 
And then as valiantly made head 
To check the foe, and forthwith fled ; 
Leaving no art untried, nor trick 
Of warrior stout and politic ; 
Until, in spite of hot pursuit, 
He gain'd a pass, to hold dispute 
On better terms, and stop the course 
Of the proud foe. With all his force 
He bravely charg'd, and for a while 
Forc'd their whole body to recoil ; 



HUDIBRAS. 67 

But still their numbers so increas'd, 
He found himself at length oppress'd, 
And all evasions so uncertain, 
To save himself for better fortune, 
That he resolv'd, rather than yield, 
To die with honour in the field, 
And sell his hide and carcass at 
A price as high and desperate 
As e'er he could. This resolution 
He forthwith put in execution, 
And bravely threw himself among 
The enemy, i' th' greatest throng. 
But what could single valour do 
Against so numerous a foe ? 
Yet much he did, indeed too much 
To be believ'd, where th' odds were such ; 
But one, against a multitude, 
Is more than mortal can make good ; 
For while one party he oppos'd, 
His rear was suddenly enclos'd ; 
And no room left him for retreat 
Or fight against a foe so great ; 
For now the mastives, charging home, 
To blows and handy-grips were come ; 
While manfully himself he bore, 
And setting his right foot before, 
He rais'd himself to show how tall 
His person was above them all. 
This equal shame and envy stirr'd 
I' th' enemy, that one should beard 
So many warriors, and so stout 
As he had done, and stav'd it out, 
Disdaining to lay down his arms, 
And yield on honourable terms. 
Enraged thus, some in the rear 
Attack 'd him, and some ev'rywhere, 
Till down he fell ; yet falling fought, 
And, being down, still laid about: 
As Widdrington in doleful dumps, 
Is said to fight upon his stumps. 
Trulla and Cerdon were the first who arrived to his rescue, 
And joining forces, laid about 
So fiercely, that th' amazed rout 



68 HUDIBRAS. 

Turn'd tail again, and straight begun, 

As if the Devil drove, to run. 

Meanwhile th' approach^! th' place where Bruin 

Was now engag'd to mortal ruin : 

The conquering foe they soon assail'd, 

First Trulla stav'd, and Cerdon tail'd. 

Until the mastives loos'd their hold. 

The foes of the bear being repelled, the 

gentle Trulla, into th' ring 
He wore in 's nose, convey 'd a string, 
With which she march'd before, and led 
The warrior to a grassy bed, 
As authors write, in a cool shade, 
Which eglantine and roses made ; 
Close by a softly murmuring stream, 
Where lovers us'd to loll and dream ; 
There leaving him to his repose, 
Secured from pursuit of foes, 
And wanting nothing but a song, 
And a well-tun'd theorbo hung 
Upon a bough, to ease the pain 
His tugg'd ears surYer'd, with a strain. 
They both drew up, to march in quest 
Of his great leader, and the rest. 

Though in this passage the burlesque is maintained 
with great skill, yet the imagery is descriptive, and the 
verse smooth, showing that the author might, had he 
chosen, have produced something in a very different 
strain to ' Hudibras,' though, there is little doubt, of far 
less excellence. He thoroughly knew the true bent of 
his genius, and probably felt a contempt for the easy 
smoothness and pretty feebleness of his contemporaries, 
of whom Waller and Denham were the two most striking 
examples. 

From the Elizabethan era to Butler's own time there 
had been a fashion, imitated from the ancients, among 
whom Ovid and the Greek Anthology may be quoted, of 
writing verses wherein Echo is made to give the answer. 
Shakspere, in his ' Venus and Adonis,' affords an advan- 
tageous specimen of its use : — 



HUDIBRAS. 69 

"She says, ' 'T is so;' they [the echoes] answer all, 
* *T is so ;' 

And would say after her, if she said i No/ " 

But other authors carried it to a ridiculous excess, and in 
the lament of Orsin for his bear, Butler ridicules the 
abuse by the most laughable exaggeration. He has been 
the progenitor, probably, of the Irish echo, which, to the 
question " How d' ye do, Paddy Blake ?" echoed 
" Pretty well, thank ye:" 

He beat his breast, and tore his hair, 

For loss of his dear crony Bear : 

That Echo, from the hollow ground, 

His doleful wailings did resound 

More wistfully, by many times, 

Than in small poets' splay-foot rhymes, 

That make her, in their rueful stories, 

To answer to int'rogatories, 

And most unconscionably depose 

To things of which she nothing knows : 

And when she has said all she can say, 

*T is wrested to the lover's fancy. 

Quoth he, " O whither, wicked Bruin, 

Art thou fled to my" — Echo, " Ruin?" 

" I thought th* hadst scorn'd to budge a step 

For fear" — quoth Echo, w Marry guep." 

" Am not I here to take thy part? 

Then what has quail' d thy stubborn heart ? 

Have these bones rattled, and this head 

So often in thy quarrel bled % 

Nor did I ever wince or grudge it, 

For thy dear sake." Quoth she, " Mum budget." 

" Think'st thou 't will not be laid i' th' dish 

Thou turn'dst thy back T Quoth Echo, " Pish !" 

" To run from those th' hadst overcome 

Thus cowardly?" Quoth Echo, " Mum." 

" But what a vengeance makes thee fly 

From me too, as thine enemy ? 

Or if thou hast no thought of me, 

Nor what I have endur'd for thee, 

Yet shame and honour might prevail 

To keep thee thus from turning tail : 

For who would grutch to spend his blood in 

His honour's cause V Quoth she, " A pudding." 



70 HUDIBRAS. 

Orsin at length meets with his companions, and the 
whole resolve, in order to revenge their discomfiture, to 
go in search of Hudibras and Ralpho, and to punish them 
for their interference. In the mean time the hero had 
retired 

Unto a neighbouring castle by, 

To rest bis body, and apply 

Fit med'cines to each glorious bruise 

He got in fight, reds, blacks, and blues ; 

which being done, he takes a sudden resolve, inspirited 
by his recent success, to visit his mistress ; for 
he } d got a hurt 

O' the inside, of a deadlier sort, 

By Cupid made, who took his stand 

Upon a widow's jointure land. 

This widow, who occupies a prominent place in the 
remainder of the poem, is described with great humour: 
She had a thousand jadish tricks, 
Worse than a mule that flings and kicks ; 
'Mong which one cross-grain' d freak she had. 
As insolent as strange and mad ; 
She could love none but only such 
As scorn'd and hated her as much. 

Horace, in his ' Satires,' book I. ii. 105, has described 
a love of a somewhat similar capricious nature. Of course 
such a character added to the knight's difficulties, who 
had no small task 
To compass what he durst not ask : 
He loves, but dares not make the motion ; . 
Her ignorance is his devotion. 

Here we have a stroke at the Papists denying the use of 
the Bible to the laity, whence they are charged with 
maintaining that ignorance is the mother of devotion, 
adding to the absurdity by making her ignorance the 
cause of his devotion. 

The knight had resolved in despair to abandon the 
pursuit, but now, as he remarks to himself, 
who knows 
But this brave conquest o'er my foes 



HUDIBRAS. 71 

May reach her heart, and make that stoop, 

As I but now have forc'd the troop ? 

If nothing can oppugne love, 

And virtue envious ways can prove, 

What may not he confide to do 

That brings both love and virtue too % 

But thou bring'st valour too and wit, 

Two things that seldom fail to hit. 

Valour 's a mouse-trap, wit a gin, 

Which women oft are taken in. 

Then, Hudibras, why shouldst thou fear 

To be, that art, a conqueror ? 

Fortune th' audacious doth juvare, 

But lets the timidous miscarry. 

Then while the honour thou hast got 

Is spick and span new, piping hot, 

Strike her up bravely thou hadst best, 

And trust thy fortune with the rest. 

On quitting the postern-door to make the purposed visit, 
the knight and squire discover their foes approaching 
to attack them. The combat commences, and after some 
minor incidents, one of which is the fortunate effect of 
the accidental discharge of his pistol at the commence- 
ment of the combat, which is with some probability sup- 
posed to allude to the general success of Prince Rupert 
in his first onsets, but which he failed to secure ulti- 
mately, the knight engages in a fierce conflict with Cer- 
don and Orsin, to which he is encouraged by Ralpho in 
some lines that tend to support the supposition above 
given : 

Quoth Ralpho, il Courage, valiant sir, 

And let revenge and honour stir 

Your spirits up ; once more fall on, 

The shatter *d foe begins to run : 

For if but half so well you knew 

To use your victory as subdue, 

They durst not, after such a blow 

As you have given them, face us now ; 

But from so formidable a soldier 

Had fled like crows when they smell powder. 

Thrice have they seen your sword aloft 

Wav'd o'er their heads, and fled as oft. 



72 HUDIBRAS. 

But if you let them re-collect 
Their spirits, now dismay'd and checked, 
You '11 have a harder game to play 
Than yet y' have had, to get the day." 

But Ralpho was unfortunate. He had dismounted to 
pick up the sword and pistol which the knight had 
dropped on being struck by a stone, and before he could 
remount he and his steed had been attacked and beaten, 
till 

The beast was startled, and begun 

To kick and fling like mad, and run. 

Bearing the tough squire like a sack, 

Or stout King Richard, on his back : 

Till stumbling, he threw him down, 

Sore bruis'd, and cast into a swoon. 

Hudibras, however, now exerts himself : 
Courageously he fac'd about, 
And drew his other pistol out ; 
And now had half-way bent the cock, 
When Cerdon gave so fierce a shock, 
With sturdy truncheon, thwart his arm, 
That down it fell, and did no harm ; 
Then stoutly pressing on with speed, 
Assay'd to pull him off his steed. 
The knight his sword had only left, 
With which he Cerdon 's head had cleft, 
Or at the least cropp'd off a limb, 
But Orsin came, and rescu'd him. 
He with his lance attack'd the knight 
Upon his quarters opposite. 
But as a bark, that in foul weal her, 
Toss'd by two adverse winds together, 
Is bruis'd and beaten to and fro, 
And knows not which to turn him to : 
So far'd the knight between two foes, 
And knew not which of them t' oppose ; 
Till Orsin, charging with his lance 
At Hudibras, by spiteful chance 
Hit Cerdon such a bang, as stunn'd 
And laid him flat upon the ground. 
At this the knight began to cheer up, 
And raising up himself on stirrup, 



HUDIBRAS. 

Cry'd out, " Victoria ! lie thou there, 
And I shall straight dispatch another, 
To bear thee company in death." 

As the knight had now a little breathing time, he pro- 
ceeded to the assistance of Ralpho, who, though reco- 
vered from his trance, declares himself unable to rise 
without the Knight's assistance, who replies that — 

" though th' art of a different church, 
I will not leave thee in the lurch." 
This said, he jogg'd his good steed nigher, 
And steer' d him gently tow'rd the squire, 
Then bowing down his body, stretch'd 
His hand out, and at Ralpho reach'd ; 
When Trulla, whom he did not mind, 
Charg'd him like lightning behind. 

She had come, in the pursuit of her occupation, to plun- 
der the fallen Ralpho, just as the knight had arrived to 
his succour, but having by a rapid succession of blows 
overthrown him also, she becomes magnanimous, and 
says — 

" But if thou think'st I took thee tardy, 

And dar'st presume to be so hardy 

To try thy fortune o'er afresh, 

I '11 waive my title to thy flesh, 

Thy arms and baggage, now my right ; 

And if thou hast the heart to try 't, 

1 11 lend thee back thyself a while, 

And once more for that carcass vile, 

Fight upon tick." 

Hudibras accepts the offer, though with many expres- 
sions of contempt, and an assurance that he will give her 
no quarter. The combat then commences : — 
She to her tackle fell, 
And on the knight let fall a peal 
Of blows so fierce, and press'd so home, 
That he retired, and follow'd 's bum : 

Stung with the disgrace, he however recovers himself, 
and — 

rais'd his arm 
Above his head, and rain'd a storm 



HUDIBRAS. 

Of blows so terrible and thick, 

As if he meant to hash her quick. 

But she upon her truncheon took them 

And by oblique diversion broke them, 

Waiting an opportunity 

To pay all back with usury, 

Which long she fail'd not of, for now 

The knight with one dead-doing blow 

Resolving to decide the fight, 

And she with quick and cunning slight 

Avoiding it, the force and weight 

He charged upon it was so great, 

As almost sway'd him to the ground : 

No sooner she th' advantage found, 

But in she flew ; and seconding 

With home-made thrust the heavy swing, 

She laid him flat upon his side ; 

And mounting on his trunk astride, 

Quoth she, " I told thee what would come 

Of all thy vapouring, base scum. 

Say, will the law of arms allow 

I may have grace and quarter now ? 

Or wilt thou rather break thy word, 

And stain thine honour than thy sword? 

A man of war to damn his soul 

In basely breaking his parole : 

And when before the fight th' hadst vow'd 

To give no quarter, in cold blood : 

Now thou hast got me for a Tartar, 

To make me 'gainst my will take quarter ; 

Why dost not put me to the sword, 

But cowardly fly from thy word ? " 

Quoth Hudibras, " The day 's thine own ; 
Thou and thy stars have cast me down ; 
My laurels are transplanted now, 
And flourish on thy conqu'ring brow : 
My loss of honour 's great enough, 
Thou need'st not brand it with a scoff; 
Sarcasms may eclipse thine own. 
But cannot blur my lost renown : 
I am not now in fortune's power, 
He that is down can fall no lower. 
The ancient heroes were illustrious 
For being benign, and not blust'rous 



HUDIBRAS. 75 

Against a vanquish'd foe : their swords 

Were sharp and trenchant ; not their words ; 

And did in fight but cut work out 

T 1 employ their courtesies about." 

Quoth she, " Altho' thou hast deserv'd, 

Base slubberdegullion, to be serv'd 

As thou didst vow to deal with me, 

If thou hadst got the victory ; 

Yet I shall rather act a part 

That suits my fame, than thy desert. 

Thy arms, thy liberty, beside 

All that 's on the outside of thy hide, 

Are mine by military law, 

Of which I will not bate one straw ; 

The rest, thy life and limbs, once more, 

Tho' doubly forfeit, I restore. " 
Quoth Hudibras, " It is too late 

For me to treat, or stipulate ; 

What thou command'st I must obey. 

Yet those whom I expugn'd to-day, 

Of thine own party, I let go, 

And gave them lii'e and freedom too ; 

Both dogs and bear, upon their parole, 

Whom I took pris Tiers in this quarrel." 
Quoth Trull a, " Whether thou or they 

Let one or other run away, 

Concerns not me ; but was 't not thou 

That gave Crowdero quarter too ? 

Crowdero, whom, in irons bound, 

Thou basely threw'st into Lob's pound, 

Where still he lies, and with regret 

His generous bowels rage and fret : 

But now thy carcass shall redeem, 

And serve to be exchang'd for him." 
The knight submits, lays his weapons and his gar- 
ments at the feet of his conqueror, who, in contemptuous 
return, throws her own " mantle " over his shoulders : — 

And as the French we conquer'd once, 

Now give us laws for pantaloons, 

The length of breeches, and the gathers, * 

Port cannons, periwigs, and feathers, 

Just so the proud insulting lass 
Array'd and dighted Hudibras. 



76 HUDIBBAS. 

She, however, most vigorously defends him from the 
attack of her re-assembling comrades, who threaten to 
cudgel him to death, and insists on carrying into effect 
her resolution of redeeming Crowdero from the stocks, 
and substituting for him both knight and squire. They 
readily agree to the proposition, and proceed to carry it 
into effect. Mounting their prisoners backwards on their 
horses — 

Orsin led Hudibras's beast, 

And Talgol that which Ralpho prest ; 

Whom stout Magnano, valiant Cerdon, 

And Colon waited as a guard on ; 

All ush'ring Trulla in the rear, 

With th 1 arms of either prisoner. 

In this proud order and array 

They put themselves upon their way. 

Striving to reach th' inchanted castle, 

Where Crowdero in durance lay still ; 

Thither with greater speed than shows 

And triumph over conquer'd foes 

Do use to allow ; or than the bears, 

Or pageants borne before Lord Mayors, 

Are wont to use, they soon arrived 

In order, soldier-like contriv'd ; 

Still marching in a warlike posture, 

As fit for battle as for muster. 

The knight and squire they first unhorse, 

And bending "gainst the fort their force, 

They all advanced, and round about 

Begirt the magical redoubt. 

Magnan' led up in this adventure, 

And made way for the rest to enter. 

For he was skilful in black art, 

No less than he that built the fort ; 

And with an iron mace laid flat 

A breach, which straight all enter* d at; 

And in the wooden dungeon found 

Crowdero laid upon the ground. 

Him they release from durance base, 

Restor'd. t* his fiddle and his case, 

And liberty, his thirsty rage 

With luscious vengeance to assuage : 



HUDIBRAS. 77 

For he no sooner was at large, 

But Trulla straight brought on the charge, 

And in the self-same limbo put 

The knight and squire, where he was shut. 

Where leaving them i' th 1 wretched hole, 

Their bangs and durance to condole, 

Confin'd and conjur'd into narrow 

Enchanted mansion to know sorrow, 

In the same order and array 

Which they ad vane' d, they march'd away. 

The mob having dispersed, the knight begins to solace 
himself and his companion — 

with ends of verse 
And sayings of philosophers. 

Quoth he, " Th' one half of man, his mind, 
Is, sui juris, unconfin'd, 
And cannot be laid by the heels, 
Whate'er the other moiety feels. 
'T is not restraint or liberty 
That makes men prisoners or free ; 
But perturbations that possess 
The mind, or equanimities. 
The whole world was not half so wide 
To Alexander, when lie cry'd 
Because he had but one to subdue, 
As was a paltry narrow tub to 
Diogenes; who is not said 
(For ought that ever I could read) 
To whine, put finger i' th 1 eye, aud sob, 
Because h* had ne'er another tub. 
The ancients make two sev'ral kinds 
Of prowess in heroic minds ; 
The active and the passive valiant; 
Both which are pari libra gallant : 
For both to give blows, and to carry, 
In fights are equinecessary : 
But in defeats, -the passive stout 
Are always found to staud it out 
Most desp'rately, and to outdo 
The active, 'gainst a conqu'riug foe. 
Tho 1 we with blacks and blues are suggill'd, 
Or, as the vulgar say, are cudgeli'd : 



H. 



78 HUDIERAS. 

I He that is valiant, and dares fight, 

Tho' drubb'd, can lose no honour by 't. 

Honour 's a lease for lives to come, 

And cannot be extended from 

The legal tenant : 't is a chattel 

Not to be forfeited in battle. 

If he that in the field is slain 

Be in the bed of honour lain, 

He that is beaten may be said 

To lie in honour's truckle-bed. 

For as we see th' eclipsed sun 

By mortals is more gaz'd upon, 

Than when, adorn'd with all his light, 

He shines in serene sky most bright : 

So valour, in a low estate, 

Is most admiYd and wonder'd at." 
These opinions, however, beget a reply from Ralpho, 
who takes the opportunity of sneering at the Presby- 
terian opinions of the knight, who in return attacks 
those of the Independents, in which dispute, on both 
sides, is introduced much of the polemical subtleness, 
wire-drawn inferences, school learning, and fanatical 
zeal which distinguished the writers of all sects at that 
period, but adorned with humorous illustrations, and a 
fertility of wit that is and ever has been inimitable. A 
short specimen is all we can afford, in which the knight 
contrives to burlesque at the same time the logic of the 
schools and the doctrines of the polemics : — 
" The question, then, to state it first, 

Is, which is better, or which worst, — 

Synod or bears ? Bears I avow 

To be the worst, and synods thou, 

But to make good th" assertion, 

Thou say'st th' are really all one. 

If so, not worst ; for if nY are idem, 

Why then tantundem dat tantidem. 

For if they are the same, by course 

Neither is better, neither worse. 

But I deny they are the same, 

More than a maggot and I am. 

That both are animalia / 

I grant ; but not rationaha : 



HUDIBRAS. 79 

For though they do agree in kind, 
Specific difference we find ; 
And can no more make bears of these 
Than prove my horse is Socrates. 
That synods are bear gardens too, 
Thou dost affirm ; but I say, No : 
And thus I prove it in a word, 
Whats'ever assembly *s not empower'd 
To censure, curse, absolve, and ordain, 
Can be no synod : but bear-garden 
Has no such pow'r. Ergo, "t is none ; 
And so thy sophistry 's o'erthrown. 

" But yet we are besides the question 
Which thou dicTst raise the first contest on : 
For that was, whether bears were better 
Than synod-men % I say, negatur. 
That bears are beasts, and synods men, 
Is held by all : they 're better then : 
For bears and dogs on four legs go, 
As beasts ; but synod men on two. 
'T is true they all have teeth and na^ls ; 
But prove that synod-men have tails ; 
Or that a rugged, shaggy fur 
Grows o'er the hide of presbyter ; 
Or that his snout and spacious ears 
Do hold proportion with a bear's; 
A bear 's a savage beast, of all 
Most ugly and unnatural, 
Whelp'd without form, until the dam 
Has lick'd it into shape and frame; 
But all thy light can ne'er evict 
That ever synod-man was lickt, 
Or brought to any other fashion 
Than his own will and inclination. 

" But thou dost further yet in this 
Oppugn thyself and sense, that is, 
Thou would'st have Presbyters to go 
For bears and dogs, and bear-wards too : 
A strange chimera of beasts and men, 
Made up of pieces heterogene. 
Such as in nature never met 
In eodem subjecto yet. 

" Thy other arguments are all 
Supposures, hypothetical, 

E 2 



80 HUDIBRAS. 

That do but beg, and we may chuse 

Either to grant them or refuse. 

Much thou hast said; which I know when 

And where thou stol'st from other men, 

(Whereby 't is plain thy light and gifts 

Are all but plagiary shifts,) 

And is the same that Ranter said, 

Who, arguing with me, broke my head, 

And tore a handful of my beard, 

The self-same cavils then I heard, 

When b'ing in hot dispute about 

This controversy, we fell out ; 

And what thou know'st I answer'd then, 

Will serve to answer thee again." 
The reply of Ralpho vividly describes the charac- 
teristics of much of the theological controversy then car- 
ried on : — 

Quoth Ralpho, " Nothing but th' abuse 

Of human learning you produce ; 

Learning, that cobweb of the brain, 

Profane, erroneous, and vain ; 

A trade of knowledge as replete 

As others are with fraud and cheat : 

An art t' incumber gifts and wit, 

And render both for nothing fit; 
j Makes light unactive, dull, and troubled, 

Like little David in Saul's doublet^. 

A cheat that scholars put upon 

Other men's reason and their own; 

A fort of error to ensconce 

Absurdity and ignorance, 

That renders all the avenues 

To truth impervious and abstruse, 

By making plain things, in debate, 

By art perplex' d and intricate : 

For nothing goes for sense, or light, 

That will not with old rules jump right : 

As if rules were not in the schools 

Deriv'd from truth, but truth from rules. 

This pagan, heathenish invention 

Is good for nothing but contention. 

For as in sword and buckler fight 

All blows do on the target light ; 



HUDIBRAS. 81 

So when men argue, the great'st part 

O" th' contest fall on terms of art, 

Until the fustian stuff be spent, 

And then they fall to th' argument.'* 
To which the knight makes a short answer, con- 
cluding, — 

" Therefore let 's stop here 

And rest our weary bones awhile, 

Already tir'd with other toil." 



The First Part of Hudibras was published, as we have 
already stated, in 1663, became extremely popular, and 
several worthless imitations were rapidly produced. 
One of them, called the ' Second Part of Hudibras/ 
was published in the same year, of which the only no- 
tice taken by Butler was in the Third Canto of the 
Second Part, where the knight tells Whachum, the 
conjuror's assistant, who pretends to some knowledge of 
his history, — 

" That paltry story is untrue, 
And made to cheat such gulls as you." 

Other imitations were the Dutch and Scotch Hudibras, 
J Butler's Ghost,' ' The Occasional Hypocrite.' In 
1674, however, Butler himself published the Second 
Part, on which we are now about to enter. 

The First Canto of this Part contains merely an ac- 
count of the interview of the widow with the knight, 
still in the stocks, beginning with a burlesque imitation 
of the Fourth Book of the iEneid, and the following 
description of Fame, embodying a satirical character 
of newspapers, that will apply almost as well now as 
then : — 

There is a tall long-sided dame, 

(But wond'rous light) ycleped Fame, 



82 HUDIBRAS. 

^ That like a thin chameleon boards 
Herself on air, and eats her words: 
Upon her shoulders wings she wears 
Like hanging sleeves, lhTd thro* with ears, 
And eyes, and tongues, as poets list, 
Made good by deep mythologist. 
With these she through the welkin flies, 
And sometimes carries truth, oft lies ;] 
With letters hung like Eastern pigeons, 
And Mercuries of farthest regions; 
Diurnals writ for regulation 
Of lying, to inform the nation ; 
And by their public use to bring down 
The rate of whetstones in the kingdom : 
About her neck a packet-mail, 
Fraught with advice, some fresh, some stale, 
Of men that walk'd when they were dead, 
And cows of monsters brought to bed ; 
Of hailstones big as pullets' eggs f 
And puppies whelp'd with twice two legs ; 
A blazing-star seen in the west, 
By six or seven men at the least. 

This ' tattling gossip ' having informed the widow of 
his situation, she determines to see him, to ridicule him, 
and to liberate him, 

This b'ing resolv'd, she call'd for hood 

And usher,* implements abroad 

Which ladies wear, besides a slender 

Young waiting damsel to attend her, 



* Mr. Ford, in his ' Handbook for Travellers in Spain/ 
says, — " The mantilla, suspended on a high comb, is then 
crossed over the bosom, which is, moreover, concealed by a 
panuete, or handkerchief. These are the 'hoods and ushers' 
of Hudibras ;" but it may be doubted whether this dress was 
ever worn in England, where the hood, as we know, from 
representations, was a very different sort of habiliment, aud 
though the usher is classed with the hood as a part of her 
wear, this is probably only a burlesque, as in Part III. Canto 
iii., it is said — 

Beside two more of her retinue, 

To testify what pass'd between you. 



HUDIBRAS. 83 

All which appearing, on she went, 

To find the knight in limbo pent. 

And 't was not long before she found 

Him and bis stout squire in the pound j 

Both coupled in enchanted tether, 

By farther leg behind together : 

For as he sat upon his rump, 

His head, like one in doleful dump, 

Between his knees, his hands apply'd, 

Unto his ears on either side ; 

And by him, in another hole, 

Afflicted Ralpho, cheek by jowl : 

She came upon him in his wooden 

Magician's circle on the sudden, 

As spirits do t' a conjurer, 

When in their dreadful shapes th' appear. 

She begins by condoling with him on his situation and 
appearance, contriving at the same time to throw ridi- 
cule on both — 

Quoth she, " Those need not be asham'd 

For being honourably maim'd ; 

If he that is in battle conquei'd, 

Have any title to his own beard, 

Tho' yours be sorely lugg'd and torn, 

It does your visage more adorn, 

Than if 't were prun'd, and starch'd, and launder'd, 

And cut square by the Russian standard. 

A torn beard 's like a tatter'd ensign, 

That's bravest which there are most rents in. 

That petticoat about your shoulders, 

Does not so well become a soldier's; 

And I 'm afraid they are worse handled ; 

Although i' th' rear, your beard the van led ; 

And those uneasy bruises make 

My heart for company to ache, 

To see so worshipful a friend 

r th' pillory set at the wrong end." 

The beard, during the reigns of James I. and Charles 
1., was an object of great care. Dr. Grey in his notes 
quotes a passage from the ' Pylades and Corinna ' of 
Mrs. Eliz. Thomas, in which she says of her grandfather, 
a Turkey merchant, that '• he was very nice in the mode 



84 RUDIBRAS. 

of that age, his valet being some hours every morning in 
starching his beard and curling his whiskers ; during which 
time a gentleman, whom he maintain'd as a companion, 
always read to him on some useful subject." Shakspere, 
in ' Midsummer's Night's Dream/ makes Bottom speak 
of coloured beards: " Your straw-coloured beard, your 
orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-g.rain beard, or 
your French-crown colour beard, your perfect yellow ;" 
these were artificial beards ; but to attain the fashionable 
colours, beards were dyed. Ben Jonson, in the ' Al- 
chemist* (act iv. sc. 7), describes Surly as having 
" dyed his beard," but that was for a disguise. Taylor, 
the Water-poet, gives a detailed account of the various 
shapes into which the beard was fashioned : — 

" Some seem as they were starched stiff and fine, 
Like to the bristles of some angry swine : 
Arid some, to set their love's desire on edge, 
Are cut and prun'd like to a quick-set hedge : 
Some like a spade, some like a fork, some square, 
Some round, some mow'd like stubble, some stark bare ; 
Some sharp, stiletto- fash ion, dagger- like, 
That may with whisp'ring a man's eyes out-pike : 
Some with the hammer-cut, or Roman T, 
Their beards extravagant reform'd must be. 
Some with the quadrate, some triangle fashion ; 
Some circular, some oval in translation : 
Some perpendicular in longitude ; 
Some like a thicket for their vastitude : 
That heights, depths, breadths, triform, square, oval, round, 
And rules geometrical in beards are found. ,J 

It must, however, be remembered that the attention 
to the beard was much more a peculiarity of the royalists 
than of their adversaries, and the readers of Sir Walter 
Scott will no doubt recall to their memory the descrip- 
tion of General Dalzell in ' Old Mortality,' who " wore 
a grey beard of venerable length, which he cherished as 
a mark of mourning for Charles the First, having never 
shaved since that monarch was brought to the scaffold.*' 
Indeed, the Puritan writers were fierce denouncers of 
all ornaments of the hair, whether male or female : ' The 



HTJDIBKAS. 8i) 

Unloveliness of Love-locks ' was a celebrated tract, and 
"roundhead" was applied to them as a term of re- 
proach ; but as the author wished to laugh at an extra- 
vagance, he felt no scruple in assigning it to his hero, 
even at the expense of historical consistency. The 
knight's beard leading the van of the rear is excessively 
droll, occasioning, as the widow insinuates, the bruises 
to be on his shoulders. 

Hudibras, in his answer, adopts, and of course bur- 
lesques, some of the tenets held by the stoic philoso- 
phers : — 

" This thing call'd pain, 
Is (as the learned Stoics maintain) 
Not bad simpliciter, nor good ; 
But merely as 't is understood. 
Sense is deceitful, and may feign, 
As well in counterfeiting pain 
As other gross phenomenas, 
In which it oft mistakes the case : 
But since th' immortal intellect 
(That's free from error and defect, 
Whose objects still persist the same) 
Is free from outward bruise or maim, 
Which nought external can expose 
To gross material bangs or blows ; 
It follows, we can ne'er be sure, 
Whether we pain or not endure ; 
And just so far are sore and griev'd. 
As by the fancy is believ'd: 
Some have been wounded with conceit, 
And died of mere opinion straight ; 
Others though wounded sore in reason, 
Felt no contusion, nor discretion/' 

The dialogue is continued at great length, and is full 
of wit, sometimes not of the most straight-laced descrip- 
tion, in which she insinuates the disgrace of his defeat, 
and he, with much subtlety, maintains that his defeat 
involves no loss of honour. 

Quoth she, " I grant it is in vain 
For one that 's basted to feel pain, 

e 3 



86 HUDIBRAS. 

Because the pangs his bones endure 
Contribute nothing to the cure ; 
Yet honour hurt, is wont to rage 
With pain no med'cine can assuage." 

Quoth he, " That honour 's very squeamish 
That takes a basting for a blemish ; 
For what 's more honorable than scars, 
Or skin to tatters rent in wars ? 
Some have been beaten till they know 
What wood a cudgel 's of by th' blow : 
Some kick'd until they can feel whether 
A shoe be Spanish or neat's leather ; 
And yet have met after long running, 
With some whom they have taught that cunning. 
The farthest way about, t' o'ercome, 
I' th' end does prove the nearest home ; 
By laws of learned duellists, 
They that are bruis'd with wood or fists, 
And think one beating may for once 
Suffice, are cowards and poltroons ; 
But if they dare engage t' a second, 
They 're stout and gallant fellows reckon'd. 

" Th' old Romans freedom did bestow, 
Our princes worship, with a blow : 
King Pyrrhus cur'd his splenetic 
And testy courtiers with a kick; 
The Negus,* when some mighty lord 
Or potentate 's to be restor'd, 
And pardon'd for some great offence, 
With which he's willing to dispense, 
First has him laid upon his belly, 
Then beaten back and side t' a jelly ; 
That done, he rises, humbly bows, 
And gives thanks for the princely blows; 
Departs not meanly proud, and boasting 
Of his magnificent rib-roasting. 
The beaten soldier proves most manful, 
That, like his sword, endures the anvil ; 
And justly 's held more formidable, 
The more his valour's malleable; 
But he that fears a bastinado, 
Will run away from his own shadow : 



The Negus is the Emperor of Abyssinia. 



HUDIBRAS. 87 

And tho' I'm now in durance fast, 
By our own party basely cast, 
Ransom, exchange, parole refus'd, 
And worse than by the enemy us'd, 
In close catasta* shut, past hope 
Of wit, or valour, to elope : 
As beatds, the nearer that they tend 
To th* earth, still grow more reverend ; 
And cannons shoot the higher pitches, 
The lower we let. down their breeches ; 
I '11 make this low dejected state 
Advance me to a greater height." 

The widow then purposely lets fall a few words, in- 
sinuating that his fortitude in misfortune might almost 
change her pity into love. The knight promptly em- 
braces the " lucky hour" to press his suit, which she 
evades, and jie then gently reproaches her in a strain 
approaching poetry — 

" Love in your heart as idly burns 

As fire in Roman antique urns, 

To warm the dead, and vainly light 

Those only that see nothing by Vf 
She next urges the influence of wealth in the forma- 
tion of marriage, which Hudibras acknowledges in a 
most ingenious dissertation upon its power : — 

Quoth she, " I grant you may be close 

In hiding what your aims propose : 

Love-passions are like parables, 

By which men still mean something else ; 

Tho' love be all the world's pretence, 

Money 's the mythologic sense, 

The real substance of the shadow 

Which all address and courtship's made to.'* 
Thought he, I understand your play, 

And how to quit you your own way ; 



* Catasta is a Latin word, used here for the stocks, but means 
a cage or place of confinement in which slaves were exposed for 
sale. 

f This alludes to the belief in the secret of a perpetual 
lamp, which was burned in tombs, supposed to have been 
possessed by the ancients and the Rosicrusians, and of which 
there is an account in the * Spectator,' No. 379. 



SS HTJDIBRAS. 

He that will win bis dame, must do 
As love does, when he bends his bow, 
With one hand thrust the lady from, 
And with the other pull her home. 
" I grant," quoth he, " wealth is a great 
Provocative to arri'rous heat ; 
It is all philters and high diet, 
That makes love rampant and to fly out : 
'T is beauty always in the flower, 
That buds and blossoms at fourscore : 
*T is that by which the sun and moon 
At their own weapons are outdone : 
That makes knights-errant fall in trances, 
And lay about 'em in romances : 
'T is virtue, wit, and worth, and all 
That men divine and sacred call ; 
For what is worth in any thing, 
But so much money as 't will bring? 
Or what but riches is there known 
Which man can solely call his own ; 
In which no creature goes his half, 
Unless it be to squint and laugh ? 
I do confess, with goods and laud 
I 'd have a wife at second hand."' 

But though the knight thus boldly avows the influence 
of riches, when she pretends to doubt his constancy he 
again becomes poetical, and tells her — 

" The sun and day shall sooner part, 
Than love, or you, shake otfmy heart; 
The sun that shall no more dispense 
His own, but your bright influence: 
I '11 carve your name on barks of trees, 
With true love-knots and flourishes ; 
That shall infuse eternal spring, 
And everlasting flourishing; 
Drink ev'ry letter on 't in stum, 
And make it brisk champaign become: 
Where'er you tread, your foot shall set 
The primrose and the violet ; 
All spices, perfumes, and sweet powders, 
Shall borrow from your breath their odours ; 
Nature her charter shall renew, 
And take all lives of things from you ; 



HUDIBRAS. 69 

The world depend upon your eye, 
And when you frown upon it, die. 
Only our loves shall still survive, 
New worlds and natures to outlive; 
And like to heralds' moons, remain* 
All crescents, without change or wane." 

She replies that his enthusiasm is assumed, and his 
speech rhetorical, and ridicules it in the following ad- 
mirable satire on the exaggerated panegyrics of poetical 
lovers : — 

"Sir Knight, you take your aim amiss : 
For you will find it a hard chapter 
To catch me with poetic rapture, 
In which your mastery of art 
Doth show itself, and not your heart ; 
Nor will you raise in mine combustion, 
By dint of high heroic fustian : 
She that with poetry is won, 
Is but a desk to write upon ; 
And what men say of her, they mean 
No more than that on which they lean. 
Some with Arabian spices strive 
To embalm her cruelly alive : 
Or season her, as French cooks use 
Their haut-gouts, bouillon, or ragouts ; 
Use her so barbarously ill, 
To grind her lips upon a mill, 
Until the facet doublet doth 
Fit their rhymes rather than her mouth ; 
Her mouth compared t' an oyster's, with 
A row of pearls in t, "stead of teeth ; 
Others make posies of her cheeks, 
Where red, and whitest colours mix; 
In which the lily, and the rose, 
For Indian lake and ceruse goes. 
The sun and moon by her bright eyes 
Eclips'd, and darken'd in the skies, 
Are but black patches that she wears, 
Cut into suns, and moons, and stars: 
By which astrologers, as well 
As those in heav'n above can tell 
What strange events they do foreshow 
Unto her under- world below. 



90 HUDIBRAS. 

Her voice, the music of the spheres, 

So loud, it deafens mortals' ears ; 

As wise philosophers have thought, 

And that 's the cause we hear it not." 
The debate continues to a great length, and is ended by 
her stipulating that, to prove his love, he shall submit to 
a whipping ; telling him that 

" For as the ancients heretofore 
, v^ To Honour's temple had no door 
V But that which thorough Virtue's lay ; 

So from this dungeon there *s no way 

To honour'd freedom, but by passing 

That other virtuous school of lashing, 

Where knights are kept in narrow lists, 

With wooden lockets "bout their wrists : 

In which they for a while are tenants, 

And for their ladies suffer penance : 

Whipping, that 's Virtue's governess, 

Tutress of arts and sciences; 

That, mends the gross mistakes of Nature, 

And puts new life into dull matter; 

That lays foundation for renown, 

And all the honours of the gown. 

This suffer'd, they are set at large, 

And freed with h on "rable discharge: 

Then in their robes, the penitentials 

Are straight presented with credentials, 

And in their way attended on 

Hy magistrates of ev'ry town ; 

And all respect, and charges paid, 

They 're to their ancient seats convey 'd> 

Now if you '11 venture, for my sake, 

To try the toughness of your back, 

And suffer (as the rest have done) 

The laying of a whipping on ; 

(And may you prosper in your suit, 

As you with equal vigour do 't) 

I here engage myself to loose ye, 

And free your heels from caperdewsie. 

But since our sex's modesty 

Will not allow I should be by, 

Bring me on oath a fair account, 

And Honour too, when you have done *t ; 

And I 11 admit you to the place 

You claim as due in my good grace. 



HUDIBRAS. 91 

If matrimony and hanging go 

By dest'ny, why not whipping too? 

It is an easier way to make 
Love by, than that which many take. 
Who would not rather suffer whipping, 
Than swallow toasts of bits of ribbon 1* 
Make wicked verses, traits, and faces, 
And spell names over with beer-glasses ? 
Be under vows to hang, and die 
Love's sacrifice, and all a lie?'' 

The knight readily consents, and thus concludes the 
Canto : — 

L Quoth he, " I do profess and swear, 

And will perform what you enjoin, 

Or may I never see you mine." 

" Amen," quoth she; then turn 5 d about, 

And bid her squire let him out. 

But ere an artist could be found 

T' undo the charms another bound, 

The sun grew low, and left the skies, 

Put down (some write) by ladies' eyes ; 

The moon pull'd off her veil of light, 

That hides her face by day from sight, 

(Mysterious veil, of brightness made, 

That 's both her lustre and her shade,) 

And in thelanthorn of the night, 

With shining horns hung out her light ; 

For darkness is the proper sphere, 

Where all false glories use t" appear. 

The twinkling stars began to muster, 

And glitter with their borrowed lustre: 

While sleep the wearied world reliev'd, 

By counterfeiting death reviv'd. 

Our vot'ry thought it best to adjourn 

His whipping penance till the morn, 

And not to carry on a work 

Of such importance in the dark, 



* It was one of the freaks which have been recorded of the 
gallants of the age, to swallow bits of ribbon worn by their 
mistresses. 



&& HUDIBRAS. 

With erring haste, but rather stay, 
And do "t in hY open face of day ; 
And 1n the mean time go in quest 
Of next retreat to take his rest. 



PART II. CANTO II. 

The Second Canto of the Second Part most strikingly 
and ingeniously satirises the practice, of which all par- 
ties at the period of the poem accused each other, and 
indeed with too much reason, of equivocation, and which 
Butler most unsparingly attributes alike to the Presbyte- 
rians and the Independents ; while they, as is well known, 
recriminated — accusing, if not convicting, even the So- 
vereign of adopting the convenient doctrine of Hudibras, 
that 

He that imposes an oath makes if, 

Not he that for convenience takes it, 

ks exemplified in his negotiations with them ; and 
churchmen and dissenters alike agreeing in condemning 
the Roman Catholics, particularly the Jesuits, for its 
constant practice. 

The thoughts of the promised infliction of the whip- 
ping had scarcely suffered the knight to sleep ; but at 
length, when 

The sun had long since in the lap 
^4 Of Thetis taken out his nap, 

When, like a lobster boil'd, the morn 

From black to red began to turn, 

Hudibras rubs his eyes, leaves his couch, and commences 
a long discussion with the squire as to the means of 
satisfactorily evading the castigation. Although the 
squire appears willing to assist his master in devising 
tricks to break his oath, the reasons of the two are most 
ingeniously varied. They are in fact both dispwtants 



HODIBRAS. 93 

against the generally received opinions of the world. 

And the poet observes, in beginning the Canto — 
"T is strange how some men's tempers suit 
(Like bawd and brandy) with dispute, 
That for their own opinions stand fast 
Only to have them claw'd and canvass'd ; 
That keep their consciences in cases, 
As fiddlers do their crowds and bases ; 
Ne'er to be us'd but when they 're bent 
To play a fit* for argument : 
Make true and false, unjust and just, 
Of no use but to be discuss' d ; 
Dispute, and set a paradox 
Like a strait boot upon the stocks, 
And stretch it more unmercifully 
Than Helmont, Montaigne, White, or Lully. 
So th' ancient Stoics in their porch 
With fierce dispute maintain'd their church, 
Beat out their brains in fight and study, 
To prove that virtue is a body ; 
That Bonum is an animal 
Made good with stout polemic brawl ; 
In which some hundreds on the place 
Were slain outright, and many a face 
Retrench'd of nose, and eyes, and beard, 
To maintain what their sect averr'd. 
All which the knight and squire in wrath 
Had like t' have suffer'd for their faith, 
Each striving to make good his own, 
As by the sequel shall be shown. 

Though forced into a parallel with the religious dis- 
putes of the day, the opinions and the persons here al- 
luded to were philosophical merely ; and the author him- 
self corrected the name of Lully into Tully, on the 
strength, it is supposed, of the ' Stoieorum Paradoxa,' in 
which he maintained in sport the most extravagant of the 
Stoic doctrines. They held, which is what Butler ridi- 
cules, " that the soul is corporeal ;" and they " defined 
all things to be Body which produce anything, or are 

* Fit is a division or part, a word frequently used by the 
older musicians and ballad-writers. 



94 HUDIBRAS. 

produced" — (' Penny Cyclopaedia/ art. Zeno.) Plato 
had also a curious theory, that the earth was an animal. 
He says, " There is warmth in the human being; there 
is warmth also in the world : the human being is com- 
posed of various elements, and is therefore called a body ; 
the world is also composed of various^ elements, and is 
therefore a body : and as our bodies have souls, the 
body of the world must have a soul ; and that soul 
stands in the same relation to our souls as the warmth of 
the world stands to our warmth."* In the ' Character 
of an Hermetic Philosopher ' Butler touches on the sub- 
ject again: he says, " This had been an excellent 
course for the old round-headed Stoics, to find out whe- 
ther Bonum was a body, or Virtue an animal, about 
which they had so many encounters in their Stoa ;" and 
quotes Diogenes Laertius, in his ■ Life of Zeno,' but the 
authority is not worth a great deal. 

In his ' Characters,' where he was not, as in his poem, 
led to give any tone of party feeling, Butler has given a 
more general description of the ' Disputant,' which it 
may not be uninteresting to compare : — 

A disputant is a holder of arguments, and wagers too, when 
he cannot make them good. He takes naturally to controversy, 
like fishes in India that are said to have worms in their heads, 
and swim always against the stream. The greatest mastery of 
his art consists in turning and winding the state of the question, 
by which means he can easily defeat whatsoever has been said 
by his adversary, though excellently to the purpose, like a 
bowler that knocks away the jack when he sees another man's 
bowl lie nearer to it than his own. Another of his faculties is 
with a multitude of words to render what he says so difficult 
to be recollected, that his adversary may not easily know what 
he means, and consequently not understand what to answer, to 
which he secretly reserves an advantage to reply by interpreting 
what he said before otherwise than he at first intended it, ac- 
cording as he finds it serve his purpose to evade whatsoever 
shall be objected. Next to this, to pretend not to understand, 
or misinterpret, what his antagonist says, though plain enough, 



* Lewes's Biographical History of Philosophy, in Knight's 
Weeklv Volume. 



HUDIBItAS. 95 

only to divert him from the purpose, arid to take occasion from 
his exposition of what he said to start new cavils on the bye, 
and run quite away from the question ; but when he finds him- 
self pressed home and beaten from all his guards, to amuse the 
foe with some senseless distinction, like a falsified blow, that, 
never hits where 'tis aimed, but while it is minded makes way 
for some other trick that may pass. But that which renders 
him invincible is abundance of confidence and words, which 
are his ofTensive and defensive arms ; for a brazen face is a 
natural helmet or beaver, and he that has store of words needs 
not surrender for want of ammunition — no matter for reason 
and sense, that go for no more in disputations than the justice 
of a cause does in war, which is understood but by few, and 
commonly regarded by none. For the custom of disputants is 
not so much to destroy one another's reason, as to cavil at the 
manner of expressing it, right or wrong; for they believe 
Dolus an Virtus, &c. ought to be allowed in controversy as 
in war, and he that gets the victory on any terms whatsoever, 
deserves it, and gets it honourably. He and his opponent are 
like two false lute-strings, that will never stand in tune to one 
another; or like two tennis-players, whose greatest skill con- 
sists in avoiding one another's strokes. 

The dispute of the knight and the squire extends to 

nearly five hundred lines, the conclusion which is come 

to being, that a lie or a substitute may be justifiably used. 

The following is the argument of Hudibras as to the 

nature of an oath : — 

P^o "A breach of oath is duple, 

And either way admits a scruple, 

And may be ex parte o' th 1 maker, 

More criminal than th' injur' d taker; 

For he that strains too far a vow 

Will break it, like an o'er-bent bow ; 

And he that made, and forc'd it, broke it ; 

Not he that for convenience took it. 

A broken oath is, quaVnus oath, 

As sound t' all purposes of troth, 

As broken laws are ne'er the worse, 

Nay, till th' are broken have no force. 

What 's justice to a man, or laws, 

That never comes within their claws? 

They have no pow'r, but to admonish, 

Cannot control, coerce, or punish, 



9(i HUDIBRAS. 

Until they 're broken, and then touch 

Those only that do make 'em such. 

Beside, n' engagement is allow'd 

By men in prison made for good ; 

For when they 're set at liberty, 

They 're from th' engagement too set free. 

The Rabbins write, when any Jew 

Did make to God or man a vow, 

Which afterwards he found untoward, 

And stubborn to be kept, or too hard ; 

Any three other Jews o' th* nation 

Might free him from the obligation : 

And have not two saints pow'r to use 

A greater privilege than three Jews? 

The court of conscience, which in man 

Should be supreme and sovereign, 

Is 't fit should be subordinate 

To evYy petty court i' th" state. 

And have less power than the lesser, 

To deal with perjury at pleasure? 

Have its proceedings disallowed, or 

Allow'd, at fancy of Pie-powder? 

Tell all it does, or does not know, 

For swearing ex officio ? 

Be forc'd to impeach a broken hedge, 

And pigs unring'd at Vis. Franc. Pledge? 

Discover thieves, bawds, and recusants, 

Priests, witches, caves-droppers, and nuisance; 

Tell who did play at games unlawful, 

And who filld pots of ale but half-full ; 

And have no pow'r at all, nor shift, 

To help itself at a dead lift? 

Why should not conscience have vacation 

As well as other courts o' th' nation ; 

Have equal power to adjourn, 

Appoint appearance and return ; 

And make as nice distinction serve 

To split a case, as those that carve, 

Invoking cuckolds' names, hit joints? 

Why should not tricks as slight, do points? 

Is /lot th' high court of justice sworn 

To judge that law that serves their turn? 

Make their own jealousies high treason, 

And fix 'em whomsoe'er they please on ? 






HUDIBRAS. 97 

Cannot the learned counsel there 

Make laws in any shape appear ? 

Mould 'em as witches do their clay, 

When they make pictures to destroy ? 

And vex 'em into any form 

That fits their purpose to do harm ? 

Rack 'em until they do confess, 

Impeach of treason whom they please, 

And most perfidiously condemn 

Those that engagfd their lives for them? 

And yet do nothing in their own sense, 

But what they ought by oath and conscience, 

Can they not. juggle, and with slight 

Conveyance play with wrong and right ; 

And sell their blasts of wind as dear 

As Lapland witches bottled air? 

Will not, fear, favour, bribe, and grudge, 

The same case sev'ral ways adjudge? 

As seamen with the self-same gale 

Will sev'ral diff'rent courses sail ; 

As when the sea breaks o'er its bounds, 

And overflows the level grounds, 

Those banks and dams, that like a screen 

Did keep it out, now keep it in : 

So when tyrannic usurpation 

Invades the freedom of a nation, 

The laws o' th' land that were intended 

To keep it out, are made defend it. 

Does not in Chanc'ry every man swear 

What, makes best for him in his answer? 

Is not the winding up witnesses 

And nicking, more than half the bus "ness ? 

For witnesses, like watches, go 

Just as they 're set, too fast or slow ; 

And where in conscience they 're strait-lac' d, 

'T is ten to one that side is cast. 

Do not your juries give their verdict 

As if they felt the cause, not heard it? 

And as they please, make matter of fact 

Run all on one side, as they 're pack'd ? 

Nature has made man's breast no windows, 

To publish what he does within doors ; 

Nor what dark secrets there inhabit, 

Unless his own rash folly blab it. 



98 HUDIBRAS. 

If oaths can do a man no good 

In his own business, why ihey should 

In other matters do him hurt, 

I think there 's little reason for 't. 

He that imposes an oath, makes it ; 

Not he that for convenience takes it : 

Then how can any man be said 

To break an oath he never made ? 

These reasons may perhaps look oddly 

To th' wicked, tho' th' evince the godly; 

But if they will not serve to clear 

My honour, I am ne'er the near. 

Honour is like that glassy bubble, 

That finds philosophers such trouble, 

Whose least part crack'd, the whole does fly, 

And wits are crack'd to find out why." 

And Ralpho follows with his definition of honour : — 
" Honour 's but a word 
To swear by only in a lord : 
In other men 't is but a huff, 
To vapour with instead of proof ; 
That like a wen, looks big and swells, 
Is senseless, and just nothing else." 

Hudibras, however, as a knight, has a word to say in fa- 
vour of honour, and falls upon the " medium :" — - 
" Let it (quoth he) be what it will, 

It has the world's opinion still. 

But as men are not wise that run 

The slightest hazard they may shun ; 

There may a medium be found out 

To clear to all the world the doubt ; 

And that is, if a man may do "t, 

By proxy whipt, or substitute." 

But when, in imitation of Don Quixote and Saneho, 
Hudibras desires Ralpho to be the substitute, he flatly 
refuses, and as the knight threatens to compel him, the 
squire commences to draw his sword — 

When both were parted on the sudden, 

With hideous clamour, and a loud one, 

As if all sorts of noise had been 

Contracted into one loud din ; 



HUDIBRAS. 99 

Or that some member to be chosen 
Had got the odds above a thousand, 
And by the greatness of his noise 
Prov'd fittest for his country's choice. 
This strange surprisal put the knight 
And wrathful squire into a fright ; 
And tho' they stood prepar'd, with fatal 
Impetuous rancour to join battle, 
Both thought it was the wisest course 
To waive the fight, and mount to horse; 
And to secure, by swift retreating, 
Themselves from danger of worse beating. 
Yet neither of them would disparage, 
By uttring of his mind, his courage, 
Which made "em stoutly keep their ground, 
With Horror and Disdain wind-bound. 

And now the cause of all their fear 
By slow degrees approach'd so near, 
They might distinguish different noise 
Of horns, and pans, and dogs, and boys, 
And kettle-drums, whose sullen dub 
Sounds like the hooping of a tub. 
But when the sight appear'd in view, 
They found it was an antique show ; 
A triumph, that for pomp and state 
Did proudest Romans emulate ; 
For as the aldermen of Rome 
Their foes at training overcome, 
And not enlarging territory, 
(As some mistaken write in story,) 
Being mounted in their best array, 
Upon a car, and who but they ? 
And follow'd with a world of tall-lads, 
That merry ditties troll' d, and ballads, 
Did ride with many a Good-morrow, 
Crying, Hey for our town, through the borough ; 
So when this triumph drew so nigh, 
They might particulars descry, 
They never saw two things so pat, 
In all respects, as this and that. 
First, he that led the cavalcade 
Wore a sow-gehler's flageolet, 
On which he blew as strong a levet 
As well-feed lawyer on his breviate; 



100 HUDIBRAS. 

When over one another's heads 
They charge (three ranks at once) like Swedes. 
Next pans, and kettles of all keys, 
From trebles down to double base. 
And after them, upon a nag, 
That might pass for a forehand stag, 
A cornet rode, and on his staff 
A smock display'd did proudly wave : 
Then bagpipes of the loudest drones, 
With snuffling broken-winded tones, 
Whose blasts of air in pockets shut 
Sound filthier than from the gut, 
And made a viler noise than swine 
In windy weather when they whine. 
Next one upon a pair of panniers, 
Full fraught with that which for good manners 
Shall here be nameless, mixt with grains, 
Which he dispens'd amongst the swains, 
And busily upon the crowd 
At. random round about bestow'd. 
Then mounted on a horned horse, 
One bore a gauntlet and gilt spurs, 
Ty'd to the pummel of a long sword 
He held revers'd, the point turn'd downward. 
Next after, on a raw-bond steed, 
The conqu'ror's standard-bearer rid, 
And bore aloft before the champion 
A petticoat display'd, and rampant ; 
Near whom the Amazon triumphant 
Bestrid her beast, and on the rump on 't 
Sat face to tail, and bum to bum, 
The warrior whilom overcome ; 
Arm'd with a spindle and a distaff, 
Which as he rode she made him twist off: 
And when he loiter' d, o'er her shoulder 
Chastisd the reformado soldier. 
Before the dame, and round about, 
March'd whifflers, and staffiers on foot, 
With lackeys, grooms, valets, and pages, 
In fit and proper equipages ; 
Of whom, some torches bore, some links, 
Before the proud virago-minx, 
That was both Madam and a Don, 
«. Like Nero's Sporus, or Pope Joan ; 



HUDIBRAS. 101 

And at fit periods the whole rout 
Set up their throats with clam'rous shout. 
The knight transported, and the squire, 
Put up their weapons and their ire ; 
And Hudibras, who us'd to ponder 
On such sights with judicious wonder, 
Could hold no longer to impart 
His an 'mad versions, for his heart. 

As in the case of the bear-baiting", Hudibras declares 
the procession to be heathenish, antichristian, ethnick, 
idolatrous, and derogatory to the female sex, and deter- 
mines, notwithstanding the exhortations and explanations 
of Ralph, to put it down. Trusting, as usual, more to 
his eloquence than his arms, he proceeds, as before, to 
address the assemblage, — and dilating particularly on the 
partisan services of the women in the civil wars, with 
similar success to that which attended his former efforts. 
Another part of the ceremony, adopted as a Lynch-law 
punishment for dominating wives, consisted in sweeping 
before the doors of those who were suspected of being in 
the same category, and is alluded to by Sir W. Scott in 
his ' Fortunes of Nigel.' The knight, however, does not 
escape the consequences of his rash interference. While 
speaking — 

At that an egg let fly 
Hit him directly o'er the eye, 
And running down his cheek, besmear'd 
With orange-tawny slime his beard ; 
But beard and slime being of one hue, 
The wound the less appear' d in view. 
Then he that on the panniers rode 
Let fly on th' other side a load ; 
And quickly charg'd again, gave fully 
In Ralpho's face another volley. 
The knight was startled with the smell, 
And for his sword began to feel : 
And Ralpho, smother'd with the stink, 
Grasp'd his ; when one that, bore a link, 
O' th' sudden clapp'd his flaming cudgel, 
Like linstock, to the horse's touch-hole ; 

F 



102 



HUDIBRAS. 




HTJDIBRAS. 103 

And straight another with his flambeau 
Gave Ralpho's o'er the eyes a damn'd blow. 
The beasts began to kick and fling, 
And forc'd the rout to make a ring, 
Thro' which they quickly broke their way, 
And brought them off from further fray. 
And though disordered in retreat, 
Each of them stoutty kept his seat : 
For, quitting both their swords and reins, 
They grasp'd with all their strength the manes, 
And to avoid the foe's pursuit, 
With spurring put their cattle to 't ; 
And till all four were out of wind, 
And danger too, ne'er look'd behind. 

On recovering their breath they do not resume their 
quarrel, but Hudibras wrests the occurrence into an 
omen of good fortune, and concludes — 

" Vespasian being daub'd with dirt, 

Was destin'd to the empire for 't ; 

And from a scavenger did come 

To be a mighty prince in Rome : 

And why may not this foul address 

Presage in love the same success ? 

Then let us straight, to cleanse our wounds, 

Advance in quest of nearest ponds ; 

And after (as we first design' d) 

Swear I 've perform'd what she enjoiu'd." 



PART II. — CANTO III. 

Astrology, in Butler's time, was a flourishing science : 
it had been so for a long period before, and continued so 
in spite of the castigation administered by him to its then 
most eminent professors ; but he has the merit of being 
the first eminent writer who attacked the irrational 
belief and exposed the tricks of its paid expounders : one 
of the most eminent was Dr. Dee, who had been the 
friend and counsellor of Queen Elizabeth. He was a 

F 2 



104 HUDIBRAS. 

man of remarkable ability and learning, who at the age 
of twenty made a tour on the Continent for the purpose 
— unusual with persons of his age — of holding scientific 
converse with the most eminent European scholars. In 
1543 he was made a fellow of Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge, just then founded by Henry VIII. ; but five 
years later we find him entering into a kind of voluntary 
exile, by a second Continental expedition, caused by the 
suspicions he had excited at home of his dealings in the 
Black Art, in which term, however, all kinds of legiti- 
mate studies that the vulgar could not understand were 
included. Dee, for instance, was an able astronomer 
and a skilful mechanician ; and these alone, had he not 
been an astrologer also, would have sufficed to have 
made him one in the eyes of the world of England in the 
sixteenth century. While on the Continent he wrote 
those prefaces and lectures on Euclid referred to by 
Butler in the character of Sidrophel, who, he says, 

had read Dee's prefaces, before 
The devil and Euclid, o'er and o'er. 

Dee returned to England during the reign of Edward 
VI., was presented at court, and received a pension, 
which he subsequently resigned for a country rectory. 
But in the reign of Mary the old suspicions revived in a 
still more concentrated and dangerous shape : he was 
accused of practising against the Queen's life by en- 
chantment ; but the charge ultimately fell to the ground. 
In this matter Dee appears as a friend of the princess, 
afterwards Queen Elizabeth, who, on her accession, 
caused him to be consulted as to a propitious day for her 
coronation ; and subsequently, as supposed, employed 
him on more than one occasion, as a secret messenger 
abroad ; it is more than probable that Elizabeth used 
him in reality more as a political agent than as an astro- 
loger, though this character might well serve to conceal 
his true one. For his services, whatever they were, he 
was made Warden of Manchester College ; but the 
rumours of his dealing with the devil all this time grew 
more and more into belief with the populace, who at last 



HUDIBRAS. 105 

assembled round his house at Mortlake in Surrey, and 
destroyed his collection of books, instruments, &c, and 
would probably have killed him with his whole family, 
but for their escape. 

It is in connection, however, with another personage, 
Edward Kelly, that the lovers of the miraculous have 
become most familiar with the name of Doctor Dee. 
Kelly entered his service as an assistant in 1581, and 
then, according to the ordinary accounts, was com- 
menced the " conversation with spirits." The two 
magicians, it seems, had a black mirror, formed, some 
say, of a stone, others, of a piece of polished cannel coal ; 
and in this they could at pleasure induce the angels 
Gabriel and Raphael to appear at their invocation. Thus 
we read in Hudibras — 

Kelly did all his feats upon 

The devil's looking-glass — a stone. 

It is also said that they transformed base metals into 
gold in the castle of a Bohemian nobleman, where in 
consequence they lived in great affluence ; but there 
seems much reason to believe that from first to last 
Elizabeth was accustomed to employ Dee as a secret in- 
telligencer on the Continent, and that therefore Dee did 
not care to contradict the marvels told of him, since they 
turned away the public attention ? both at home and 
abroad, from the nature of his real avocations ; and the 
appointment of .Dee to the Wardenship of the College of 
Manchester in 1595, supports this view, as appearing to 
be a reward suitable to such a man for long political ser- 
vices. Many of the particulars of Dee's life are obtained 
from the curious autobiographical memoirs of William 
Lilly, the Sidrophel to whom Butler will presently in- 
troduce us in his version of the character. 

Lilly's entrance into the world was in the humble ca- 
pacity of servant to a mantua-maker ; but it was not long 
before he exchanged this post for that of a kind of clerk- 
ship to the Master of the Salters' Company, who, being 
an illiterate man, required some one to keep his accounts, 
When he died, Lilly married the widow, who was 



106 HUDIBRAS. 

wealthy ; and after her death Lilly by a second mar- 
riage still further improved his fortunes. And then, 
under the superintendence of a clergyman who had 
been expelled the church for fraudulent practices, 
he began the study of astrology, and speedily made 
himself such an adept in it, that his fame extended far 
and wide. He was one of the members of the close 
commission of the Parliament who were debating the sub- 
ject of the death of Charles the First. But Lilly's 
popularity with the million was chiefly originated by his 
almanac, which he began to publish in 1644, under the 
title of ' Merlinus Anglicus, Junior,' and which ob- 
tained an amazing circulation, and was followed by a host 
of similar productions, of whose authors John Gadbury 
was one of the most notorious in his own day, whilst 
Francis Moore even yet remains famous in ours. There 
is one incident of Lilly's career which illustrates very 
forcibly the state of public opinion at the time : a rumour 
prevailed about the year 1634, that vast treasures were 
hidden beneath the cloisters of Westminster Abbey, and 
at last Lilly was called in to decide the question by the 
use of Mosaical or miners' rods. The permission of the 
dean had to be sought, and it was granted ; but only on 
the condition that he should have a share in the pro- 
ceeds. Lilly, in the darkness of night, attended by 
thirty gentlemen, each carrying a hazel rod, stalked in 
solemn array into the cloisters, where graves were 
opened, coffins removed, and the rods incessantly ap- 
plied, but without effect, when suddenly a great storm 
burst out, and the excited imaginations of the explorers, 
already sufficiently excited by the place, the time, and 
the mysterious nature of the influence they were en- 
deavouring to set in operation, became utterly uncon- 
trollable, and the whole party scampered away in a 
frenzy of alarm, as fast as their legs could carry them. 
It is to be hoped the dean had a u share " of this, the 
only result of the unseemly disturbance of the ashes of 
the dead that he had sanctioned in the hope of profit. 
While Lilly was a partisan of the king's, his opinion 
was sought, with a fee of 20/., as to the propriety of 



HUDIBRAS, 107 

agreeing to the propositions of the Parliament, while the 
Parliamentarians employed him to furnish them with 
" perfect knowledge of the chiefest concerns of France," 
a service for which a payment of 50/. in cash and 100/. 
per annum can be considered only a very moderate re- 
muneration. With the ruin of the king's cause he 
became a decided anti-royalist, and pretended to have 
foretold the battle of Naseby, having written under 
June, 1645, " If now we fight, victory steals upon us;" 
a not very definite or unsafe prediction. His chief 
business, however, was the calculation of nativities and 
the recovery of stolen goods. He lived till the Re- 
storation, and solicited to be again employed as a pro- 
phet, but was rejected, more from political motives pro- 
bably than from disbelief in his pretensions. He pretended 
also to have foretold the great plague and the fire of 
London. Of the first, he says, u In ' Monarchy or no 
Monarchy,' printed in 1651, I had named an hiero- 
glyphic, which you may see in page the seventh, re- 
presenting a great sickness and mortality ; wherein you 
may see the representation of people in their winding- 
sheets, persons digging graves and sepultures, coffins, 
&c." He adds — " In the next side, after the coffins and 
pick-axes, there is a representation of a great city all in 
flames of fire." This occasioned him some trouble, for 
it being remembered, he was summoned before a com- 
mittee of Parliament, and examined as to " whether 
there was treachery or design in the business." His 
defence is a curious specimen of evasion. " Having 
found, sir, that the city of London should be sadly 
afflicted with a great plague, and not long after with an 
exorbitant fire, I framed these two hieroglyphics, as re- 
presented in the book, which in effect have proved very 
true.' 

" ' Did you foresee the year V said one. 

" 'I did not,' said I, ' or was desirous; of that I 
made no scrutiny.' I proceeded — ' Now, sir, whether 
there was any design of burning the city, or any em- 
ployed to that purpose, I must deal ingenuously with 
you, that since the fire I have taken much pains in the 



108 HTJDIBRAS. 

search thereof, but cannot, or could not, give myself atty 
the least satisfaction therein. I conclude that it was 
only the finger of God ; but what instruments he used 
thereunto I am ignorant.' " He concludes by saying 
the committee dismissed him with great civility. He 
died in 1681, and was buried at Walton-upon-Thames. 
Such a character could not but form a capital subject for 
Butler's satirical powers, and he has accordingly treated 
it with consummate skill and vigour, butjstill . taking~itt- 
fmite pains that the entire should not be individuaJUfe«t_ 

general lashing — the dupes as well as the practisers, 

- 

Doubtless the pleasure is as great 

Of being cheated, as to cheat ; 

As lookers on /eel most delight, 

That least perceive a juggler's sleight. ; 

And still, the less they understand, 

The more tli' admire his sleight of hand. 

Others still gape t' anticipate 
The cabinet-designs of Fate ; 
Apply to wizards, to foresee 
What shall, and what shall never he. 
And as those vultures do forebode, 
Believe events prove bad or good. 
A flam more senseless than the rog'ry 
Of old aruspicy and aug'ry, 
That out of garbages of cattle 
Presag'd th' events of truce or battle : 
From flight of birds, or chickens pecking, 
Success of great'st attempts would reckon ; 
Tho r cheats, yet more intelligible, 
Than those that with the stars do fribble. 

In this canto Hudibras begins to revolve the deter- 
mination to which he had come respecting his self- 
inflicted punishment in the last canto, and is fearful of 
the consequences " if she [the widow] should find he 
swore untrue ;" " for," says he to Ralpho — 

" If in our account we vary, 

Or but in circumstance miscarry j 



HUDIBRAS. 109 

Or if she put me to strict proof, 
And make me pull my doublet off, 
To show, by evident record 
Writ on my skin, I 've kept my word, 
How can I e'er expect to have her, 
Having demurr'd unto her favour ; 
But faith, and love, and honour lost, 
Shall be reduc'd t' a knight o' th' post f" 

He wishes to 

" find by necromatic art 
How far the dest'nies take my part ;' T 

and then Ralpho informs him of the character and skill 
of Sidrophel. 

Quoth Ralph, " Not far from hence doth dwell 

A cunning man, bight Sidrophel, 

That deals in Destiny's dark counsels, 

And sage opinions of the moon sells : 

To whom all people, far and near, 

On deep importances repair ; 

When brass and pewter hap to stray, 

And linen slinks out of the way ; 

When geese and pullen are seduc'd, 

And sows of sucking-pigs are chous'd ; 

When cattle feel indisposition, 

And need th' opinion of physician ; 

When murrain reigns in hogs or sheep, 

And chickens languish of the pip ; 

When yeast and outward means do fail, 

And have no pow'r to work on ale ; 

When butter does refuse to come, 

And love proves cross and humoursome." 

Hudibras declares his liking for the proposition, but 
doubts whether " saints have freedom " to make such use 
of sorcerers. These scruples Ralpho removes by a long- 
detail of ridiculous wonders, and urges — 

"Do not our great reformer's use 
This Sidrophel to forbode news V 

which quiets the knight's conscience, and he resolves to 
pay the astrologer a visit. 

r3 



110 HUDIBRAS. 

The astrologer himself is then described at 
length : 

He had been long t'wards mathematics. 

Optics, philosophy, and statics, 

Magic, horoscopy, astrology ; 

And was old dog at physiology : 

But, as a dog that turns the spit, 

Bestirs himself, and plies his feet 

To climb the wheel, but all in vain, 

His own weight brings him down again : 

And still he 's in the selfsame place 

Where at his setting out he was : 

So in the circle of the arts, 

Did be advance his nat'ral parts ; 

Till falling back still for retreat, 

He fell to juggle, cant, and cheat : 

For as those fowls that live in water 

Are never wet, he did but smatter ; 

Whate'er he labour'd to appear, 

His understanding still was clear. 

Yet none a deeper knowledge boasted, 

Since old Hodge Bacon and Bob Grosted. 

Th" intelligible world he knew, 

And all men dream on 't to be true : 

That in this world there 's not a wart 

That has not there a counterpart ; 

Nor can there on the face of ground 

An individual beard be found, 

That lias not in that foreign nation 

A fellow of the selfsame fashion ; 

So cut, so colour'd, and so curl'd, 

As those are in th 1 inferior world. 

H' had read Dee's Prefaces, before 

The Dev'l and Euclid, o'er and o'er ; 

And all th' intrigue "twixt him and Kelly, 

Lescus and th' Emperor would tell ye ; 

But with the moon was more familiar 

Than e'er was almanac well-wilier ; 

Her secrets understood so clear, 

That some believed he had been there ; 

Knew when she was in fittest mood 

For cutting corns, or letting blood j 



HUDIBRAS. Ill 

When for anointing scabs or itches, 

Or to the bum applying leeches ; 

When sows and bitches may be spay'd, 

And in what sign best cycler's%iade ; 

Whether the wane be, or increase, 

Best to set garlic, or sow pease : 

Who first found out the man i 1 th' moon, 

That to the ancients was unknown ; 

How many dukes, and earls, and peers 

Are in the planetary spheres ; 

Their airy empire, and command, 

Their sev'ral strengths by sea and land ; 

What factions th' have, and what they drive at 

In public vogue, or what in private ; 

With what designs and interests 

Each party manages contests. 

He made an instrument to know 

If the moon shine at full or no ; 

That would, as soon as e'er she shone, straight 

Whether 't were day or night, demonstrate ; 

Tell what her d' meter t' an inch is, 

And prove that she *s not made of green -cheese. 

It would demonstrate that the Man in 

The Moon's a sea Mediterranean; 

And that it is no dog or bitch, 

That stands behind him at his breech ; 

But a huge Caspian Sea, or lake, 

With arms, which men for legs mistake ; 

How large a gulf his tail composes, 

And what a goodly bay his nose is, 

How many German leagues by th' scale 

Cape Snout 's from Promontory Tail. 

He made a planetary gin, 

Which rats would run their own heads in, 

And come on purpose to be taken, 

Without th' expense of cheese or bacon ; 

With lute-strings he would counterfeit 

Maggots that crawl on dish or meat : 

Quote moles and spots on any place 

O 1 th T body, by the index face : 

Cure warts and corns, with application 
Of med'cines to th' imagination : 



112 HUDIBRAS. 

Fright agues into dogs, and scare 

With rhymes the tooth-ache and catarrh : 

Chase evil spirits away, by dint 

Of sickle, horse-shoe, hollow-flint ; 

Spit fire out of a walnut shell, 

Which made the Roman slaves rebel ; 

And fire a mine in China here, 

With sympathetic gunpowder. 

He knew whats'ever 's to be known, 

But much more than he knew would own. 

Butler has here assembled a collection of all the m 
common absurdities of superstitious belief, many of which II 
are even yet in existence, and includes Sir Kenelm [J 
Digby's ridiculous theory of the power of sympathy, to j 
which he has more than one allusion in different parts 
of the poem. 

After a few more lines devoted to the ridicule of the 
newly established Royal Society, he proceeds with the 
character of the astrologer's assistant " night Whachum." 
Under this character, as we have already remarked, he 
chastises the person who published a paltry imitation of 
his poem, but we only give that part here which com- 
pletes the ' Astrologer :' 

His business was to pump and wheedle, 

And men with their own keys unriddle, 

To make them to themselves give answers, 

For which they pay the necromancers ; 

To fetch and carry intelligence, 

Of whom, and what, and where, and whence, 

And all discoveries disperse 

'Mong the whole pack of conjurers ; 

What cut-purses have left with them, 

For the right owners to redeem : 

And what they dare not vent, find out, 

To gain themselves and th 1 art repute ; 

Draw figures, schemes, and horoscopes, 

Of Newgate, Bridewell, brokers' shops, 

Of thieves ascendant in the cart ; 

And find out all by rules of art : 

Which way a serving-man, that "s run 

With clothes or money away, is gone ; 



HUDIBRAS. 113 

Who pick'd a fob at holding-forth, 
And where a watch for half the worth 
May be redeem'd ; or stolen plate 
Restor'd at conscionable rate. 
Beside all this, he serv'd his master 
In quality of poetaster ; 
And rhymes appropriate could make 
To every month i' th' almanac ; 
When terms begin and end could tell, 
With their returns, in doggerel ; 
When the exchequer opes and shuts, 
And sowgelder with safety cuts ; 
When men may eat and drink their fill, 
And when be temp'rate, if they will ; 
When use, and when abstain from vice, 
Figs, grapes, phlebotomy, and spice. 
And as in prisons mean rogues beat 
Hemp for the service of the great; 
So Whachum beat his dirty brains 
T" advance his master's fame and gains; 
And like the devil's oracles, 
Put into dogg'rel rhymes his spells, 
W T hich over ev'ry month's blank page 
I' th' almanac strange bilks presage. 

Many of these characteristics were preserved in alma- 
nacs till within a few years, and some, we believe, yet 
exist. 

The knight and squire now turn their steeds towards 
the mansion of the astrologer, who perceives them 
coming, and addresses his satellite : 

"Whachum," quoth he, "look yonder, some 
To try or use our art are come : 
The one 's the learned knight ; seek out 
And pump 'em what they come about.'" 
Whachum advanc'd with all submiss'ness 
T' accost 'em, but much more their bus'ness : 
He held a stirrup while the knight 
From leathern Barebones did alight ; 
And taking from his hand the bridle, 
Approach' d the dark squire to unriddle ; 
He gave him first the time o' day, 
And welcom'd him, as he might say : 



114 HUDIBRAS. 

He ask'd him whence they came, and whither 

Their bus'ness lay ? Quoth Ralpho, " Hither." 

"Did you not lose ? r — Quoth Ralpho, " Nay;" 

Quoth Whachum, u Sir, I meant your way ! 

Your knight 1 ' — quoth Ralpho, " Is a lover, 

And pains intol'rable doth suffer : 

For lovers' hearts are not their own hearts, 

Nor lights, nor lungs, and so forth downwards." 

" What time T-— Quoth Ralpho, "Sir, too long; 

Three years it off and on has hung"— 

Quoth he, " I mean what time o' the day 't is ; 

Quoth Ralpho, " between seven and eight 't is." 

" Why then/' quoth Whachum, " my small art 

Tells me the dame has a hard heart ; 

Or great estate" — Quoth Ralph, " a jointure, 

Which makes him have so hot a mind t' her." 

The knight, on being admitted, is kept " at bay" until 
the astrologer has the knowledge acquired by his assis- 
tant imparted to him. He then addresses his visitor : — 

u Sir, you '11 excuse 
This rudeness I am forc'd to use ; 
It is a scheme and face of heaven, 
As th' aspects are dispos'd this even, 
When you arriv'd, but now I 've done." 

Hudibras and the astrologer first exchange civilities ; 
but the knight, quack and pretender as he was himself, 
was an unbeliever in the quackeries and pretensions of 
astrology, which he very efficiently ridicules ; although, 
in confirmation of the power of his art, the astrologer 
informs him of the purpose of his visit : — 

" You are in love, sir, with a widow," 
Quoth he, "that does not greatly heed you, 
And for three years sh' has rid your wit 
And passion, without drawing bit : 
And now your bus'ness is to know 
If you shall carry her or no." 

Quoth Hudibras, " You're in the right, 
But how the devil you came by 't 
I can't imagine ; for the stars 
I am sure can tell no more than horse ; - 



HUDIBRAS. 115 

Nor can their aspects (though ye pore 
Your eyes out on 'em) tell you more 
Than th' oracle of sieve and shears, 
That turns as certain as the spheres. 
But if the Devil's of your council, 
Much may be done, my noble Donzel ; 
And 't is on this account I come 
To know from you my fatal doom." 

After some further discussion, the knight remaining 
unconvinced, Sidrophel endeavours to defend his art by 
quoting the old and exploded instances of its success, in 
which the author as ingeniously exposes its weakness as 
in the attacks of his antagonist : — 

Quoth Sidrophel, " It is no part 

Of prudence to cry down an art ; 

And what it may perform, deny 

Because you understand not why. 

(As Averrhoes play'd but a mean trick, 

To damn our whole art for eccentric.) 

For who knows all that knowledge contains ? 

Men dwell not on the tops of mountains, 

But ou their side, or rising's seat : 

So 't is with knowledge's vast height. 

Do not the hist'ries of all ages 

Relate miraculous presages 

Of strange turns in the world's affairs 

Foreseen b' astrologers, soothsayers, 

Chaldeans, learn' d Genethliacks, 

And some that have writ almanacs'? 

When Caesar in the senate fell, 

Did not the sun eclips'd foretel, 

And, in resentment of his slaughter, 

Look pale for almost a year after ? 

Augustus, having b' oversight 

Put on his left shoe 'fore his right, 

Had like to have been slain that day 

By soldiers mutin'ing for pay. 

Are there not myriads of this sort, 

Which stories of all times report ? 

Is it not om'nous in all countries, 

When crows and ravens croak upon trees? 



1 1 6 HUBIBRAS. 

The Roman senate, when within 
The city walls an owl was seen, 
Did cause their clergy with lustrations 
(Our synod calls humiliations) 
The round-fac'd prodigy t' avert, 
From doing town and country hurt. 
And if an owl have so much pow'r, 
Why should not planets have much more, 
That in a region far above 
Inferior fowls of the air move, 
And should see farther, and foreknow 
More than their augury below ? 
Though that once served the polity 
Of mighty states to govern by ; 
And this is what we take in hand 
By pow'rful art to understand'; 
Which, how we have perform'd, all ages 
Can speak th' events of our presages. 
Have we not lately in the moon 
' Found a new world, to th/ old unknown ? 
Discover' d sea and land Columbus 
And Magellan could never compass ? 
Made mountains with our tubes appear, 
And cattle grazing on 'em there ? "' 

The last few lines contain another sneer at the efforts 
of the Royal Society. /Hudibras continues obstinate 
in his incredulity, and asks, still pursuing the same sub- 
ject :— 

" But what, alas ! is it to us 

Whether i' th' moon men thus or thus 
Do eat their porridge, cut their corns, 
Or whether they have tails or horns % 
What trade from thence can you advance, 
But what we nearer have from France % 
What can our travellers bring home, 
That is not to be learnt at Rome % 
What politics, or strange opinions, 
That are not in our own dominions? 
What science can be brought from thence, 
In which we do not here commence % 
What revelations,, or religions, 
That are not in our native regions % 



HUDIBRAS. 117 

Are sweating-lanthorns, or screen-fans, 

Made better there than they 're in France 1 ? 

Or do they teach to sing and play 

On the guitar a newer way % 

Can they make plays there that shall fit 

The public humour with less wit? 

Write wittier dances, quainter shows, 

Or fight with more ingenious blows % 

Or does the man i' th' moon look big, 

And wear a huger periwig, 

Show in his gait or face more tricks 

Than our own native lunatics ? 

But if we out-do him here at home, 

What good of your design can come ? 

As wind i' th* hypochondries pent 

Is but a blast if downward sent ; 

But if it upward chance to fly, 

Becomes new light and prophecy. 

So when your speculations tend 

Above their just and useful end, 

Although they promise strange and great 

Discoveries of things far fel', 

They are but idle dreams and fancies, 

And savour strongly of the Ganzas.* 

Tell me but what *s the nat'ral cause 

Why on a sign no painter draws 

The full moon ever, but the half; 

Resolve that with your Jacob's staff; 

Or while wolves raise a hubbub at her, 

And dogs howl when she shines in water; 

And I shall freely give my vote, 

You may know something more remote." 



* Godwin, afterwards Bishop of Hereford, wrote, in his 
youth, a kind of astronomical romance, under the feigned 
name of a Spaniard, Domingo Gonzales, and entitled it 
6 The Man in the Moon, or a Discourse on a Voyage thither.' 
It gives an account of his being drawn up to the moon in 
a light vehicle by certain birds called Ganzas. [Nash's 
Hudibras.] The poet may also have alluded to Bishop Wil- 
kins's projects for flying, as well as those of some others, 
as the idea was not uncommon at the time. 



118 HUDIBRAS. 

Sidrophel defends his art with warmth, and 

having three times shook his head 
To stir his wit up, 

commences in a strain of great wisdom, a part of which 
Butler might well have applied to himself, to lay a foun- 
dation that contrasts very remarkably with the rubbishing 
edifice he erects on it :— 

" Art has no mortal enemies, 

Next ignorance, but owls and geese ; 

Those consecrated geese, in orders, 

That to the Capitol were warders : 

And being then upon patrol, 

With noise alone beat off the Gaul : 

Or those Athenian sceptic owls 

That will not credit their own souls j 

Or any science understand 

Beyond the reach of eye or hand : 

But measuring all things by their own 

Knowledge, hold nothing's to be known : 

Those wholesale critics, that in coffee- 

Houses cry down all philosophy, 

And will not know upon what ground 

In nature we our doctrine found, 

Altho' with pregnant evidence 

We can demonstrate it to sense, 

As I just now have done to you, 

Foretelling what you came to know* 

Were the stars only made to light 

Robbers and burglarers by nigbt? 

To wait on drunkards, thieves, gold- finders? 

And lovers solacing behind doors, 

Or giving one another pledges 

Of matrimony under hedges? 

Or witches, simpling, and on gibbets 

Catting from malefactors snippets ? 

Or from the pillry tips of ears 

Of rebel-saints and perjurers ? 

Only to stand by and look on, 

But not know what is said or done ? 

Is there a constellation there, 

That was not born and bred up here ? 



HUDIBRAS. 119 

And therefore cannot be to learn 

In any inferior concern ? 

Were they not, during all their lives 

Most, of 'em pirates, whores, and thieves % 

And is it like they have not still 

In their old practices some skill "? 

Is there a planet that by birth 

Does not derive its house from earth ? 

And therefore probably must know 

What is, and hath been done below ; 

Who made the balance, or whence came 

The bull, the lion, and the ram % 

Did not we here the Argo rig % 

Make Berenice's periwig? 

Whose liv'ry does the coachman wear % 

Or who made Cassiopeia's chair? 

And therefore as they came from hence, 

With us may hold intelligence. 

Plato deny'd the world can be 

Govern'd without geometry ; 

(For money being the common scale 

Of things by measure, weight, and tale ; 

In all th' affairs of church and state, 

'T is both the balance and the weight :) 

Then much less can it be without 

Divine astrology made out; 

That puts the other down in worth, 

As far as heav n *s above the earth." 

In the reply of the knight the author contrives to dis- 
play his familiarity with the different theories of the 
ancient and modern philosophers, astronomers, and as- 
trologers : — 

" Th' Egyptians say the sun has twice 

Shifted his setting and his rise ; 

Twice has he risen in the west, 

As many times set in the east ; 

But whether that be true or no, 

The devil any of you know. 

Some hold the heavens, like a top, 

Are kept by circulation up ; 

And were 't not for their wheeling round, 

They 'd instantly fall to the ground : 






120 HUDIBRAS. 

As sage. Empedocles of old, 

And from him modern authors hold. 

Plato believ'd the sun and moon 

Below all other planets run. 

Some Mercury, some Venus seat, 

Above the sun himself in height. 

The learned Scaliger complained 

'Gainst what Copernicus maintain^, 

That in twelve hundred years and odd, 

The sun had left its ancient, road, 

And nearer to the earth is come 

'Bove fifty thousand miles from home : 

Swore 't was a most notorious flam, 

And he that had so little shame 

To vent such fopperies abroad, 

Deserv'd to have his rump well claw'd : 

Which Monsieur Bod in hearing, swore 

That he deserv'd the rod much more, 

That durst upon a truth give doom, 

He knew less than the Pope of Rome. 

Cardan believed great states depend 

Upon the tip o* th' bear's tail's end ; 

That as she whisk' d it t'wards the sun 

Strew'd mighty empires up and down : 

Which others say must needs be false, 

Because your true bears have no tails. 

Some say the zodiac constellations 

Have long since chang'd their antique stations 

Above a sign, and prove the same 

In Taurus now, once in the Ram ; 

Affirm the trigons chopp'd and chang'd, 

The watery with the fiery ranged." 

Hudibras concludes his speech with a bitter attack on 
the practice of casting nativities : — 

iC Some towns and cities, some for brevity 
Have cast the 'versal world's nativity; 
And made the infant stars confess, 
Like fools or children, what they please. 
Some calculate the hidden fates 
Of monkeys, puppy-dogs, and cats : 
Some running-nags, and fighting-cocks, 
Some love, trade, law-suits, and the pox : 



HUDIBRAS. 121 

Some take a measure of the lives 
Of fathers, mothers, husbands, wives ; 
Make opposition, trine, and quartile, 
Tell who is barren and who fertile ; 
As if the planet's first aspect 
The tender infant did infect 
In soul and body, and instil 
All future good and future ill : 
Which in their dark fatal'ties lurking, 
At destined periods fall a-working, 
And break out, like the hidden seeds 
Of long diseases, into deeds, 
In friendships, enmities, and strife, 
And all th* emergencies of life : 
No sooner does he peep into 
The world, but he has done his do, 
Catch'd all diseases, took all physic 
That cures or kills a man that is sick ; 
Married his punctual dose of wives, 
Is cuckolded, and breaks, or thrives. 
There 's but the twinkling of a star 
Between a man of peace and war ; 
A thief and justice, fool and knave, 
A huffing off 'cer and a slave ; 
A crafty lawyer and pickpocket, 
A great pbilos'pher and a blockhead ; 
A formal preacher and a player, 
A learn'd physician and manslayer. 
As if men from the stars did suck 
Old age, diseases, and ill luck, 
Wit, folly, honour, virtue, vice, 
Trade, travel, women, claps, and dice ; 
And draw with the first air they breathe 
Battle and murder, sudden death. 
Are not these fine commodities 
To be imported from the skies, 
And vended here among the rabble, 
For staple goods, and warrantable I 
Like money by the Druids borrovv'd, 
In th' other world to be restor'd." 

Sidrophel, thoroughly provoked, as the last and over- 
whelming proof of his knowledge, now says that by the 
stars he has become acquainted with Hudibras's pre- 
vious adventures, and relates some as given in the 



122 HUDIBRAS. 

" paltry story," written in imitation of the original, to 
which we have alluded, and concludes : — 

" Howe'er you vapour 
I can what I affirm make appear ; 
Whachum shall justify 't t' your face, 
And prove he was upon the place : 
He played the saltinbancho's* part, 
Transform'd t' a Frenchman by my art ; 
He stole your cloak, and pick'd your pocket, 
Chous'd and caldees'd ye like a blockhead, 
And what you lost I can produce, 
If you deny it, here i' th' house.'' 

Whereupon Hudibras denounces them both as " knaves 
and cheats," and despatches llalpho for a constable, 
while he " holds 'em at bay." 

But Sidrophel, who from th' aspect 

Of Hudibras, did now erect 

A figure worse portending far 

Than that of most malignant star, 

Believ'd it now the fittest moment 

To shun the danger that might come on 't, 

While Hudibras was all alone, 

And he and Whachum two to one. 

This being resolv'd, he spy'd by chance 

Behind the door, an iron lance, 

That many a sturdy limb had gor'd, 

And legs, and loins, and shoulders bor'd ; 

He snatch'd it up, and made a pass, 

To make his way through Hudibras. 

Whachum had got a fire-fork, 

With which he vow'd to do his work ; 

But Hudibras was well prepared, 

And stoutly stood upon his guard ; 

He put by Sidrophelo's thrust, 

And in right manfully he rush'd : 

The weapon from his gripe he wrung, 

And laid him on the earth along. 

Whachum his sea-coal prong threw by, 

And basely turn'd his back to fly ; 

But Hudibras gave him a twitch, 

As quick as lightning, in the breech, 

* Mountebank. 



HUDIBRAS. 123 

Just in the place where honour 's lodg'd, 
As wise philosophers have judg'd^ 
Because a kick in that place more 
Hurts honour than deep wounds before. 

Quoth Hudibras, rt The stars determine 
You are my prisoners, base vermin ! 
Could they not tell you so, as well 
As what I came to know foretel ? 
By this, what cheats you are we find, 
That in your own concerns are blind. 
Your lives are now at my dispose, 
To be redeemed by fine or blows : 
But who his honour would defile, 
To take, or sell, two lives so vile ? 
I '11 give you quarter : but your pillage, 
The conquering warrior's crop and tillage, 
Which with his sword he reaps and ploughs, 
That's mine, the law of arms allows." 

Hudibras proceeds to plunder and beat Sidrophel, 
who at length pretends to be dead, at which the knight 
becomes rather alarmed, but resolves to turn the event 
to the gratification of his revenge upon Ralph, by leaving 
him to answer for the supposed murder. The glee 
which he expresses at the contemplated fate of his fol- 
lower, and the humour of the description of it, are in- 
imitable : — 

He held it now no longer safe 
To tarry the return of Ralph, 
But rather leave him in the lurch : 
Thought he, he has abus'd our church, 
Refus'd to give himself one firk 
To carry on the public work ; 
Despis'd our synod-men like dirt, 
And made their discipline his sport ; 
Divulg'd the secrets of their classes, 
And their conventions prov'd high places ; 
Disparag'd their tithe-pigs as pagan, 
And set at nought their cheese and bacon ; 
Rail'd at their covenant, and jeer'd 
Their rev'rend parsons to my beard ; 
For all which scandals, to be quit 
At once, this juncture falls out fit. 



124 



HUDIBRAS. 




Combat of Hudibras and Sidrophel. 



HUDIBRAS. 125 

I '11 make him henceforth to beware, 

And tempt my fury if he dare : 

He must, at least, hold up his hand 

By twelve freeholders to be scann'd ; 

Who by their skill in palmistry 

Will quickly read his destiny, 

And make him glad to read his lesson, 

Or take a turn for *t at the session ; 

Unless his light and gifts prove truer 

Than ever yet they did, I'm sure ; 

For if he 'scape with whipping now, 

'T is more than he can hope to do : 

And that will disengage my conscience 

O' th' obligation, in his own sense : 

I '11 make him now by force abide, 

What he by gentle means denied, 

To give my honour satisfaction, 

And right the brethren in the action." 

This being resolv'd, with equal speed 

And conduct he approach' d his steed, 

And with activity unwont 

Essay' d the lofty beast to mount ; 

Which, once achiev'd, he spurr'd his palfiy, 

To get from th' enemy and Ralph free ; 

Left danger, fears, and foes behind, 

And beat, at least three lengths, the wind. 

This canto is followed by an Epistle from Hudibras 
to Sidrophel, published ten years subsequently, which 
has no connexion whatever with the poem, and the ob- 
ject of which is, under this name, to ridicule Sir Paul 
Neal, a member of the Royal Society, who is said to 
have given offence by denying to Butler the authorship 
of * Hudibras.' The style is very different to that of 
the poem, nor is the character of the original astrologer 
maintained. In fact it is wholly out of place here, and 
goes some way to prove that the author had no pre- 
conceived plot for his poem, but just pursued it as his 
humour or leisure led him. The verses are sufficiently bitter 
and caustic, and we give the conclusion as a specimen. 

" Hence 't is that 'cause y' have gain'd o' th' College 
A quarter share (at most) of knowledge, 

G 



126 HUDIBRAS. 

And brought in none, but spent repute, 

Y* assume a pow'r as absolute 

To judge, and censure, and control, 

As if you were the sole Sir Poll ; 

And saucily pretend to know 

More than your dividend comes too : 

You '11 find the thing will not be done 

With ignorance and face alone : 

No, tho' ye *ve purchas'd to your name, 

In history, so great a fame ; 

That now your talent "s so well known, 

For having all belief out- grown, 

That ev'ry strange prodigious tale 

Is measured by your German scale, 

By which the virtuosi try 

The magnitude of ev'ry lie, 

Cast up to what it does amount, 

And place the bigg'st to your account ; 

That all those stories that are laid 

Too truly to you, and those made, 

Are now still charg'd upon your score, 

And lesser authors nam'd no more. 

Alas ! that faculty betrays 

Those soonest it designs to raise : 

And all your vain renown will spoil, 

As guns o'ercharg'd the more recoil : 

Tho' he that has but impudence, 

To all things has a fair pretence ; 

And put among his wants but shame, 

To all the world may lay his claim : 

Tho* you have tried that nothing 's borne 

With greater ease than public scorn, 

That all affronts do still give place 

To your impenetrable face ; 

That makes your way through all affairs, 

As pigs through hedges creep with theirs : 

Yet as "t is counterfeit, and brass, 

You must not think 't will always pass ; 

For all impostors, when they *re known, 

Are past their labour, and undone : 

And all the best that can befall 

An artificial natural, 

Is that which madmen find, as soon 

As once they 've broke loose from the moon, 



HUDIBRAS. 127 



And proof against her influence, 
Relapse to e'er so little sense, 
To turn stark fools, and subjects fit 
For sport of boys, and rabble-wit. 



PART III. CANTO I. 

The Third Part of ' Hudibras,' on which we are now 
about to enter, was not published till 1678, fifteen years 
after the appearance of the First Part. The subject is 
not concluded, nor perhaps was it ever the author's in- 
tention to make a formal ending. It is evident that, 
commencing the poem, he had constructed a very slight 
fable, more for the purpose of holding together the 
numerous episodes and miscellaneous discussions, than 
for the effect of any interest to be derived from it in 
itself. In fact, the same personages being carried 
through the poem, and their characters consistently pre- 
served, form the sustaining links which connect the 
different parts into a whole. But even this is not strictly 
attended to ; the author discards even them when it suits 
his humour. This is particularly apparent in the Second 
Canto of the present Part, which avowedly leaves the 
heroes altogether ; the First Canto concluding, 

Let us leave 'em for a time, 
And, to their churches turn our rhyme ; 
To hold forth their declining state, 
Which now come near an even rate. 

It is possible, however, that a longer life might have 
made additions to the poem, though it might have been 
no nearer a conclusion : but the author died in about 
two years after the appearance of this Part. 

The subject of the First Canto of this Part cannot be 
better told than in the author's own ' argument :' 

The knight and squire resolve at once, 
The one the other to renounce ; 

G2 



128 



HUDIBRAS. 



They both approach the lady's bower, 

The squire V inform, the knight to woo her. 

She treats them with a masquerade, 

By furies and hobgoblins made : 

From which the squire conveys the knight, 

And steals him, from himself, by night. 

But though this is all the action of the Canto, a 
great part of it is filled with disquisitions on love and 
marriage. Respecting the first, the poet begins by 
ridiculing those lovers _ who, by elevating their mis- 
tresses to stars or deities, ensure to themselves scorn 
and ill-treatment, by " trusting those they made her 
kindred." 



'T is true, no lover has that pow'r, 

T' enforce a desperate amour. 

As he that has two strings to 's bow, 

And burns for love and money too; 

For then he 's brave and resolute, 

Disdains to render in his suit, 

Has all his flames and raptures double, 

And hangs or drowns with half the trouble ; 

While those that sillily pursue 

The simple, downright way, and true, 

Make as unlucky applications, 

And steer against the streams their passions : 

Some forge their mistresses of stars ; 

And when the ladies prove averse, 

And more untoward to be won 

Than by Caligula the moon, 

Cry out upon the stars for doing 

111 offices to cross their wooing; 

When only by themselves they J re hinder'd, 

For trusting those they made her kindred ; 

And still, the harsher and hide-bounder 

The damsels prove, become the fonder ; 

For what mad lover ever died 

To gain a soft and gentle bride? 

Or for a lady tender-hearted, 

In purling streams or hemp departed? 



HUDIBRAS. 129 

Leap'd headlong int' Elysium, 
Thro' th* windows of a dazzling room ?* 
But for some cross ill-natur'd dame, 
The am'rous fly burnt in his flame. 
This to the knight could be no news, 
With all mankind so much in use ; 
Who therefore took the wiser course, 
To make the most of his amours, 
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways, 
As follows in due time and place. 

The knight, presuming on his conquest over the as- 
trologer, proceeds at once to the lady : — 

T' acquaint her with his expedition, 
And conquest o'er the fierce magician : 
Describe the manner of the fray, 
And show the spoils he brought away ; 
His bloody scourging aggravate, 
The number of the blows, and weight ; 
All which might probably succeed, 
And gain belief h' had done the deed : 
W T hich he resolv'd t 1 enforce, and spare 
No pawning of his soul to swear : 
But, rather than produce his back, 
To set his conscience on the rack ; 
And, in pursuance of his urging 
Of articles perform'd, and scourging, 
And all things else, upon his part, 
Demand deliv'ry of her heart, 
Her goods and chattels, and good graces, 
And person, up to his embraces. 

In the mean time Ralpho, who, it will be remembered, 
had been sent for 

A strong detachment 
Of beadles, constables, and watchmen, 

to apprehend Sidrophel and Whachum for robbery, 
while his master was keeping guard over them, instead 
of performing his task, resolves to betray him to his 
mistress : — 

* i. e. Drowned themselves in water illumined by the sun. 



130 HUDIBRAS. 

He call'd to mind th' unjust foul play- 
He would have offered him that day. 
To make him curry his own hide, 
Which no beast ever did beside, 
Without all possible evasion, 
But of the riding- dispensation.* 
And therefore much about the hour, 
The knight (for reasons told before) 
Resolv'd to leave him to the fury 
Of justice, and an unpack'd jury, 
The squire concurr'd t' abandon him, 
And serve him in the self-same trim ; 
T' acquaint the lady what h' had done, 
And what he meant to carry on ; 
What project 't was he went about 
When Sidrophel and he fell out ; 
His firm and stedfast resolution 
To swear her to an execution ; 
To pawn his inward ears to marry her, 
And bribe the devil himself to carry her. 






The widow is of course made fully aware of the 
knight's evasion of his promise, and of his knavish in- 
tentions. But she preserves a serious countenance when 
he makes his appearance, and, after 

all due ceremonies paid, 
He strok'd his beard, and thus he said : 

" Madam, I do, as is my duty, 
Honour the shadow of your shoe-tie : 
And now am come, to bring your ear 
A present you '11 be glad to hear ; 
At least I hope so. The thing ? s done, 
Or may I never see the sun ; 
For which I humbly now demand 
Performance at your gentle hand ; 
And that you 'd please to do your part, 
As I have done mine to my smart." 

With that he shrugg'd his sturdy back, 
As if he felt his shoulders ache, 
But she, who well enough knew what . 
(Before he spoke) he would be at, 

* The procession of the Skimmington. 



HUD1BRAS. 131 

Pretended not to apprehend 
The mystery of what he mean'd : 
And therefore wish'd him to expound 
His dark expressions less profound. 

A discussion next takes place between the knight and 
the lady on the value of oaths, by which the knight 
offers to establish the truth of his testimony, affirming 
that 

" He that makes his soul his surety, 
I think does give the best secur'ty.' 5 

Quoth she, if Some say, the soul 's secure 
Against distress and forfeiture ; 
Is free from action, and exempt 
From execution and contempt; 
And to be summon'd to appear 
Jn th' other world, 's illegal here, 
And therefore few make any account, 
Int 1 what incumbrances they run 't. 
For most men carry things so even 
Between this world, and hell, and heaven, 
Without the least offence to either, 
They freely deal in all together, 
And equally abhor to quit 
This world for both, or both for it : 
And when they pawn and damn their souls, 
They are but pris'ners on paroles." 

'* For that," quoth he, " "t is lational, 
They may be accountable in all. 
For when there is that intercourse 
Between divine and human pow'rs, 
That all that we determine here 
Commands obedience ev'ry where ; 
When penalties may be commuted 
For fines, or ears, and executed ; 
It follows, nothing binds so fast 
As souls in pawn and mortgage past : 
For oaths are th' only tests and scales 
Of right and wrong, and true and false : 
And there 's no other way to try 
The doubts of law and justice by." 

Quoth she, " What is it you would swear ? 
There 's no believing till I hear; 



132 HLDIBEAS. 

For 'till they're understood, all tales, 

Like nonsense, are not true nor false." 
He at length proceeds to relate a series of the most 
extravagant and absurd fictions as to his self-chastise- 
ment, and his combat with the astrologer and his 
assistant : — 

But as h' was running on, 

To tell what other feats h' had done, 

The lady stopt his full career, 

And 5 told him now t was time to hear. 

"If half those things/' said she, " be kti*" — 
" They 're all," quoth he, " I swear by you." 
"Why then," said she, "that Sidrophel 

Has damn'd himself to th' pit of hell ; 

Who, mounted on a broom, the nag 

And hackney of a Lapland hag, 

In quest of you came hither post, 

Within an hour, I *m sure, at most; 

Who told me all you swear and say, 

Quite contrary another way ; 

Vow'd that you came to him, to know 

If you should carry me or no ; 

And would have hir'd him and his imps 

To be your match- makers and pimps, 

T' engage the devil on your side, 

And steal, like Proserpine, your bride. 

But he, disdaining to embrace 

So filthy a design and base, 

You fell to vapouring and huffing, 

And drew upon him like a ruffian ; 

Surpris'd him meanly, unprepar'd, 

Before h' had time to mount, his guard ; 

And left him dead upon the ground, 

With many a bruise aud desp'rate wound : 

Swore you had broke and robb'd his house, 

And stole his talismanic louse, 

And all his new-found old inventions, 

With flat felonious intentions : 

Which he could bring out, where he bad, 

And what he bought them for, and paid : 

His flea, his morpion, and punese,* 

H' had gotten for his proper ease, 

* Talismanic lcuse and bug. 



HTJDIBRAS. 133 

And all in perfect minutes made 

By th' ablest artist of the trade ; 

Which, he could prove it, since he lost, 

He has been eaten up almost ; 

And altogether might amount 

To many hundreds on account : 

For which h' had got sufficient warrant 

To seize the malefactors errant 

Without capacity of bail, 

But of a cart's or horse's tail ; 

And did not doubt to bring the wretches. 

To serve for pendulums to watches ; 

Which, modern virtuosi say, 

Incline to hanging every way. 

Besides he swore, and swore 't was true, 

That ere he went in quest of you, 

He set a figure to discover 

If you were fled to Rye or Dover ; 

And found it clear, that, to betray 

Yourselves and me, you fled this way : 

And that he was upon pursuit, 

To take you somewhere hereabout. 

Hevow'd he had intelligence 

Of all that pass'd before and since : 

And found, that ere you came to him, 

Y' had been engaging life and limb 

About a case of tender conscience, 

Where both abounded in your own sense ; 

Till Ralpho, by his light and grace, 

Had clear'd all scruples iti the case ; 

And prov'd that you might swear and own 

Whatever 's by the wicked done. 

For which, most basely to requite 

The service of his gifts and light, 

You strove t' oblige him, by main force, 

To scourge his ribs instead of yours ; 

But that he stood upon his guard, 

And all your vapouring out-dar'd ; 

For which, between you both, the feat 

Has never been perform'd as yet." 

While thus the lady talk'd, the knight 
Turn'd th' outside of his eyes to white, 
(As men of inward light are wont 
To turn their optics in upon 't) ; 

G 3 



134 HUDIBRAS. 

He wonder'd how she came to know 
What he had done, and meant to do ; 
Held up his affidavit-hand, 
As if h' had been to be arraign'd : 
Cast tow'rds the door a ghastly look, 
In dread of Sidrophel, and spoke. 

He speaks but to reiterate his assertions and oaths as to 
his truth ; but the lady replies, 

" I Ve learn" d how far I 'm to believe 

Your pinning oaths upon your sleeve. 

But there 's a better way of clearing 

What you would prove, than downright swearing;*' 

and that is, stripping and showing his wounds. This of 
course he declines, pleading that he 

" ought to have a care 
To keep his wounds from taking air." 

She is unsatisfied, but asks, if 

" we should agree, 
What is it you expect from me?" 

The knight answers, he desires her plighted faith, 
which she had " past in heaven on record." This gives 
occasion to a most ingenious and humorous satire on 
marriage ; while the playful exaggerations, and the 
placing of them in the mouth of a lady, takes away all 
the sting, and from the mouth of a widow all impro- 
priety. We give sufficient to show its excellence : — 

Quoth she, " There are no bargains driv"n,b ■ 
Nor marriages clapp'd up in heav'n, 
And that 's the reason, as some guess, 
There is no heav'n in marriages ; 
Two things that naturally press 
Too narrowly, to be at ease. 
Their bus'ness there is only love, 
Which mariage is not like t" improve. 
Love, that s too gen'rous to abide 
To be against - its nature tied: 
For where "t is of itself incliud, 
It breaks loose when it is confm'd ; 



HUDIBRAS. 135 

And like the soul, its harbourer, 
Debarr'd the freedom of the air, 
Disdains against its will to stay, 
But struggles out, and flies away : 
And therefore uever can comply 
T" endure the matrimonial tie, 
That binds the female and the male, 
Where th' one is but the other's bail ; 
Like Roman gaolers, when they slept, 
Chain'd to the prisoners they kept. 
Of which the true and faithfulFst lover 
Gives best security to suffer. 

* 

A bargain, at a venture made, ,b> / 

Between two partners in a trade ; 

(For what 's inferr'd by t' have and t' hold, 

But something past away, and sold %) 

That, as it makes but one of two, 

Reduces all things else as low : 

And at the best is but a mart 

Between the one and th' other part, 

That on the marriage-day is paid, 

Or hour of death, the bet is laid; 

And all the rest of better or worse, 

Both are but losers out of purse. *> ^ 



A slavery beyond enduring, 
But that 't is of their own procuring : 
As spiders never seek the fly, 
But leave him, of himself, t' apply ; 
So men are by themselves betray'd 
To quit the freedom they enjoy 'd, 
And run their necks into a noose, 
They 'd break 'em after, to break loose. 
As some, whom death would not depart, 
Have done the feat themselves by art. 
Like Indian widows, gone to bed 
In flaming curtains to the dead ; 
And men as often dangled for 't, 
And yet will never leave the sport. 
Nor do the ladies want excuse 
For all the stratagems they use, 
To gain the advantage of the set, 
And lurch the am"rous rook and cheat. 



136 HUDIBRAS. 

For as the Pythagorean soul 

Runs thro 1 all beasts, and fish, and fowl, 

And has a smack of ev'ry one ; 

So love does, and has ever done]: 

And therefore, tho' 't is ne'er so fond, 

Takes strangely to the vagabond. 

'T is but an ague that *s revers'd, 

Whose hot fit takes the patient first, 

That after burns with cold so much 

As iron in Greenland does the touch ; 

Melts in the furnace of desire, 

Like glass, that 's but the ice of fire ; 

And when his heat of fancy 's over, 

Becomes as hard and frail a lover : 

For when he 's with love-powder laden, 

And prim'd and cock'd by miss or madam, 

The smallest sparkle of an eye 

Gives fire to his artillery ; 

And off the loud oaths go, but, while 

They 're in the very act, recoil : 

Hence 't is, so few dare take their chance 

Without a sep'rate maintenance ; 

And widows, who have tried one lover, 

Trust none again, till th' have made over ; 

Or if they do, before they marry, 

The foxes weigh the geese they carry ; 

And ere they venture o'er a stream, 

Know how to size themselves and them. 

Whence wittiest ladies always choose 

To undertake the heaviest goose ; 

For now the world is grown so wary, 

That few of either sex dare marry. 



For when it falls out for the best, 
Where both are incommoded least, 
In soul and body two unite, 
To make up one hermaphrodite : 
Still amorous, and fond, and billing, 
Like Philip and Mary on a shilling, 
Th' have more punctilios and capriches 
Between the petticoat and breeches, 
More petulant extravagances, 
Than poets make 'em in romances, 






HUDTBRAS. 137 

Tho', when their heroes 'spouse the dames, 
We hear no more of charms and flames : 
For then their late attracts decline, 
And turn as eager as prick'd wine ; 
And all their catterwauling tricks, 
In earnest to as jealous piques, 
Which th 1 ancients wisely signified, 
By th' yellow mantle of the bride ; 

For 't is in vain to think to guess 
At women by appearances ; 
That patch and paint their imperfections 
Of intellectual complexions, 
And daub their tempers o'er with washes 
As artificial as their faces ; 
Wear under vizard-masks their talents 
And mother wits before their gallants ; 
Until they re hamper'd in the noose, 
Too fast to dream of breaking loose : 
When all the flaws they strove to hide 
Are made unready, with the bride, 
That, with her wedding clothes, undresses 
Her complaisance and gentilesses : 
Tries all her arts, to take upon her 
The government from th' easy owner ; 
Until the wretch is glad to waive 
His lawful right, and turn her slave ; 
Find all his having and his holding, 
Reduc'd V eternal noise and scolding ; 
The conjugal petard, that tears 
Down all portcullises of ears, 
And makes the volley of one tongue 
For all their leathern shields too strong." 

The knight controverts these propositions, but in a 
way rather to show his metaphysical character and mer- 
cenary motives, than to afford any satisfactory answer. 

Quoth he, " These reasons are but strains 
Of wanton, over-heated brains, 
Which ralliers in their wit or drink 
Do rather wheedle with, than think. 
Man was not man in Paradise, 
Until he was created twice, 



138 HUDIBRAS. 

And had his better half, his bride, 

Carv'd from th' original, his side, 

T" amend his natural defects, 

And perfect his recruited sex ; 

Enlarge his breed, at once, and lessen 

The pains and labour of increasing, 

By changing them for other cares, 

As by his dry'd up paps appears. 

His body, that stupendous frame, 

Of all the world the anagram, 

Is of two equal parts compact, 

In shape and symmetry exact, 

Of which the left and female side 

Is to the manly right a bride 

Both join'd together with such art, 

That nothing else but death can part. 

Those heav'nly attracts of yours, your eyes, 

And face, that all the world surprise, 

That dazzle all that look upon ye, 

And scorch all other ladies tawny ; 

Those ravishing and charming graces, 

All are made up of two half faces, 

That, in a mathematic line, 

Like those in other heavens, join ; 

Of which if either grew alone, 

'T would fright as much to look upon : 

And so would that sweet bud, your lip, 

Without the other's fellowship. 

Our noblest senses act by pairs, 

Two eyes to see, to hear two ears; 

Th' intelligencers of the mind, 

To wait upon the soul designed ; 

But those that serve the body alone, 

Are single, and confined to one. 

The world is but two parts, that meet 

And close at th' equinoctial, fit ; 

And so are all the works of nature, 

StampM with her signature on matter; 

Which all her creatures, to a leaf, 

Or smallest blade of grass, receive. 

All which sufficiently declare 

How entirely marriage is her care, 

The only method that she uses, 

In all the wonders she produces* 






HUDIBRAS. 139 

And those that take their rules from her, 

Can never be deceiv'd nor err. 

For what secures the civil life 

But pawns of children, and a wife % 

That lie, like hostages, at stake, 

To pay for all men undertake ; 

To whom it is as necessary, 

As to be born and breathe, to marry. 

So universal, all mankind 

In nothing else is of one mind. 

For in what stupid age, or nation, 

Was marriage ever out of fashion ? 

So all those false alarms of strife, 

Between the husband and the wife, 

And little quarrels, often prove 

To be but new recruits of love : 

When those wlv are always kind or coy, 

In time must either tire or cloy. 

Nor are their loudest clamours more, 

Than as they 're relish'd, sweet or sour : 

Like music, that proves bad or good, 

According as 't is understood. 

In all amours a lover burns 

With frowns, as well as smiles, by turns : 

And hearts have been as oft with sullen 

As charming looks, surpris'd and stolen : 

Then why should more bewitching clamour 

Some lovers not as much enamour % 

For discords make the sweetest airs,' 

And curses are a kind of prayers ; 

Too slight alloys for all those grand 

Felicities by marriage gain'd : 

For nothing else has power to settle 

The interests of love perpetual ; 

An act and deed, that makes one heart 

Become another's counterpart, 

And passes fines on faith and love, 

Enroll' d and register' d above, 

To seal the slippery knots of vows, 

Which nothing else but death can loose. 

And what security 's too strong 

To guard that gentle heart from wrong, 



140 HTJDIBRAS. 

That to its friend is glad to pass 
Itself away, and all it has ; 
And, like an anchorite, gives over, 
This world, for th' heaven of a lover ? " 

She answers in much the same style as in her former 
speech, but 

By this time 't was grown dark and late, 
When th' heard a knocking at the gate, 
Laid on in haste, with such a powder, 
The blows grew louder still and louder. 
Which Hudibras, as if th' had been 
Bestow' d as freely on his skin, 
Expounding by his inward light, 
Or rather more prophetic fright, 
To be the wizard, come to search, 
And take him napping in the lurch j 
Turn'd pale as ashes, or a clout ; 
But why, or wherefore, is a doubt : 
For men will tremble, and turn paler, 
With too much, or too little valour. 

The lady encourages him, advises him to retreat and 
hide himself from the pursuers, while she herself 
will 

" stand centinel 
To guard this pass 'gainst Sidrophel." 

He affects to demur ; but hearing a renewed attack on 
the door, 

He thought it desperate to stray 

Till th' enemy had forc'd his way, 

But rather post himself, to serve 

The lady for a fresh reserve. 

His duty was not to dispute, 

But what sh' had orderd execute : 

Which he resolv'd in haste t' obey, 

And therefore stoutly march'd away ; 

And all h 1 encounter'd fell upon, 

Tho' in the dark, and all alone ; 

Till fear, that braver feats performs, 

Than ever courage dar'd in arms, 

Had drawn him up before a pass, 

To stand upon his guard, and face : 



HUDIBRAS. 141 

This he courageously invaded, 

And having enter'd, barricaded. 

Ensconc'd himself, as formidable 

As could be, underneath a table ; 

Where he lay down in ambush close, 

T' expect th' arrival of his foes. 

Few minutes he had lain perdue, 

To guard his desprate avenue, 

Before he heard a dreadful shout, 

As loud as putting to the rout, 

With which impatiently alarm'd, 

He fancy'd th' enemy had storm' d, 

And, after entering, Sidrophel 

Was fall'n upon the guards pell-mell ; 

He therefore sent out all his senses, 

To bring him in intelligences ; 

Which vulgars, out of ignorance, 

Mistake for falling in a trance ; 

But those that trade in geomancy, 

Affirm to be the strength of fancy ; 

In which the Lapland magi deal, 

And things incredible reveal. 

Meanwhile the foe beat up his quarters, 

And storm'd the outworks of his fortress. 

Soon as they had him at their mercy, 
They put him to the cudgel fiercely, 
As if they scorn'd to trade and barter, 
By giving or by taking quarter : 
They stoutly on his quarters laid, 
Until his scouts came in t' his aid, 
For when a man is past his sense, 
There 's no way to reduce him thence, 
But twinging him by th' ears or nose, 
Or laying on of heavy blows : 
And if that will not do the deed, 
To burning with hot irons proceed. 

No sooner was he come t' himself, 
But on his neck a sturdy elf 
Clapp'd in a trice his cloven hoof, 
And thus attack'd him with reproof. 

The pretended goblins having got Hudibras com- 
pletely in their power, terrified and subdued by his own 



142 HUDIBRAS. 

fears, and his superstitious belief in their supernatural 
character, proceed with his examination thus : — 

" Mortal, thou art betray 'd to us 
B 1 our friend, thy evil genius, 
Who for thy horrid perjuries, 
Thy breach of faith, and turning lies, 
The brethren's privilege (against 
The wicked) on themselves, the saints, 
Has here thy wretched carcase sent 
For just revenge and punishment ; 
Which thou hast now no way to lessen, 
But by an open free confession ; 
For if we catch thee failing once, 
? T will fall the heavier on thy bones. 

" What made thee venture to betray, 
And filch the lady's heart away ? 
To spirit her to matrimony?" — 

" That which contracts all matches, money. 
It was th* enchantment of her riches 
That made m' apply t' your crony witches ; 
That in return would pay th' expense, 
The wear and tear of conscience, 
Which I could have patch'd up, and turn'd, 
For the hundredth part of what I earn'd." 

" Didst thou not love her then ? Speak true." 

" No more (quoth he) than I love you." 

f( How would'st th' have us'd her and her money I" 

" First turn'd her up to alimony ; 
And laid her dowry out in law, 
To null her jointure with a flaw, 
Which I before-hand had agreed 
T' have put, on purpose, in the deed ; 
And bar her widow's-making-over 
T' a friend in trust, or private lover." 

" What made thee pick and choose her out 
T' employ their sorceries about? " 

" That which makes gamesters play with those 
Who have least wit, and most to lose.'" 

" But didst thou scourge thy vessel thus, 
As thou hast damn'd thyself to us ?" 

" I see you take me for an ass : 
*T is true, I thought the trick would pass, 



HUDIBRAS. 143 

Upon a woman, well enough, 
As 't has been often found by proof; 
Whose humours are not to be won 
But when they are impos'd upon : 
For love approves of all they do 
That stand for candidates, and woo." 

" Why didst thou forge those shameful lies 
Of bears and witches in disguise I" 

" That is no more than authors give 
The rabble credit to believe ; 
A trick of following the leaders 
To entertain their gentle readers ; 
And we have now no other way 
Of passing all we do or say ; 
Which, when t is natural and true, 
Will be believ'd b' a very few ; 
Beside the danger of offence, 
The fatal enemy of sense/' 

" Why didst thou choose that cursed sin, 
Hypocrisy, to set up in?" 

" Because it is the thriving' st calling, 
The only saints'-bell that rings all in ; 
In which all churches are concern'd, 
And is the easiest to be learn'd : 
For no degrees, unless th' employ 't, 
Can ever gain much or enjoy 't. 
A gift that is not only able 
To domineer among the rabble, 
But by the laws empowered, to rout 
And awe the greatest that stand out 9 
Which few hold forth against, for fear 
Their hands should slip, and come too near ; 
For no sin else, among the saints, 
Is taught so tenderly against.'' 

It will be seen in this attack on hypocrisy how im- 
partially Butler inflicts his satire. In the continuation, 
which contains some ridicule of the forms of the various 
catechisms promulgated by the different sects at the time, 
he does not spare the foibles of his own church. 

" What made thee break thy plighted vows?" 
" That which makes others break a house, 



144 HUDIBRAS. 

And hang, and scorn ye all, before 
Endure the plague of being pour." 

Quoth he, "I see you have more tricks 
Than all our doating politics, 
That are grown old, and out of fashion, 
Compar'd with your New Reformation : 
That, we must come to school to you, 
To learn your more refin'd, and new." 

Quoth he, '*' If you will give me leave 
To tell you what I now perceive, 
You'd find yourself an arrant chouse, 
If y' were but at a meeting-house.'' 

" *T is true (quoth he), we ne'er come there, 
Because wr' have let 'em out by th' year." 

" Truly (quoth he), you can't imagine, 
What wondrous things they will engage in : 
That as your fellow-fiends in hell 
Were angels all before they fell : 
So are you like to be again, 
Compar'd with th' angels of us men." 

Quoth he, " I am resolv'd to be 
Thy scholar in this mystery ; 
And therefore first desire to know 
Some principles on which you go. 

" What makes a knave a child of God, 
And one of us?" " A livelihood." 

" What renders beating out of brains, 
And murder, godliness?" " Great gains.'* 

" What 's tender conscience ?* <k T is a botch 
That will not bear the gentlest touch ; 
But breaking out, despatches more 
Than th' epidemical' st plague-sore." 

" What makes y' encroach upon our trade, 
And damn all others'?" " To be paid." 

" What 's orthodox and true believing 
Against a conscience ?" " A good living." 

" What makes rebelling against kings 
A good old cause V' " Administ'rings." 

" What makes all doctrines plain and clear?" 

<• About two hundred pounds a year." 

<; And that which was prov'd true before, 
Prove false again ?" " Two hundred more." 

" What makes the breaking of all oaths 
A holy duty ?" '• Food and clothes." 



HUDIBRAS. 145 

"What laws and freedom, persecution?" 
" Being out of power, and contribution."' 
"What makes a church a den of thieves?" 
" A dean and chapter, and white sleeves." 
" And what would serve, if those were gone, 

To make it orthodox ?" " Our own." 
" What makes morality a crime, 

The most notorious of the time ; 

Morality, which both the saints 

And wicked too cry out against?" 
" 'Cause grace and virtue are within 

Prohibited degrees of kin : 

And therefore no true saint allows 

They shall be suffer' d to espouse ; 

For saints can need no conscience, 

That with morality dispense ; 

As virtue 's impious, when 't is rooted 

In nature only, and not imputed ; 

But why the wicked should do so, 

We neither know, nor care to do." 
" What 's liberty of conscience, 

I' th' natural and genuine sense ?" 
" "T is to restore, with more security, 

Rebellion to its ancient purity ; 

And Christian liberty reduce 

To th' elder practice of the Jews. 

For a large conscience is all one, 

And signifies the same with none." 
" It is enough (quoth he) for once, 

And has repriev'd thy forfeit bones ; 

Nick Machiavel had ne'er a trick 

(Tho' he gives name to our Old Nick), 

But was below the least of these, 

That pass i 1 th' world, for holiness." 

The goblins now vanish, and while, in the dark, the 
knight bemoans his fate, Ralpho, who had been a con- 
cealed auditor of all the proceedings, replies to him in 
the character of ghost, reproaching him with his prac- 
tices and fraudulent intentions. The opening of the fol- 
lowing quotation is poetical in spite of its burlesque 
character : — 

The queen of night, whose large command 
Rules all the sea, and half the land, 



146 HUDIBRA8. 

And over moist and crazy brains, 

In high spring-tides, at midnight reigns, 

Was now declining to the west, 

To go to bed, and take her rest ; 

When Hudibras, whom stubborn blows 

Deny'd his bones that soft repose, 

Lay still expecting worse and more, 

Stretch "d out at length upon the floor : 

And tho' he shut his eyes as fast 

As if h' had been to sleep his last, 

Saw all the shapes that fear of wizards 

Do make the devil wear for vizards, 

And pricking up his ears, to hark 

If he could hear too in the dark ; 

Was first invaded with a groan, 

And after, in a feeble tone, 

These trembling words — u Unhappy wretch, 

Wlrat hast thou gotten by this fetch, 

Or all thy tricks in this new trade, 

Thy holy brotherhood o' th' blade ? 

By saunt'ring still on some adventure, 

And growing to thy horse a Centaur? 

To stuff thy skin with swelling knobs 

Of cruel and hard- wooded drubs ? 

For still th' hast had the worse on 't yet ; 

As well in conquest as defeat, 

Night is the Sabbath of mankind, 

To rest the body and the mind, 

Which now thou art denied to keep, 

And cure thy 'labour'd corpse with sleep." 

The dialogue, which is of considerable length, contains 
some severe expositions of the more extravagant doc- 
trines of the dissenting sects. The knight mistakes the 
voice for that of Satan himself, or one of his immediate 
agents ; and after listening to the reproaches on his 
party, says— 

" I see," quoth Hudibras, " from whence . . ' r 1 
These scandals of the saints commence, 
That are but natural effects 
Of Satan's malice, and his sects 5 , 
Those spider-saints, that hang by threads 
Spun out o' th' entrails of their heads." 



HTJDIBRAS. 147 

" Sir/' quoth the Voice, " that^nay as true 
And properly he said of you ; 
Whose talents may compare with either : 
Or both the other put together. 
For all the Independents do, 
Is only what you forc'd them to, 
You, who are not content alone 
With tricks to put the devil down, 
But must have armies rais'd to back 
The gospel work you undertake : 
And if artillery, and edge-tools, 
Were th' only engines to save souls : 
While he, poor devil, has no pow'r 
By force, to run down and devour; 
Has ne'er a classis, cannot sentence 
To stools, or poundage of repentance ; 
Is tied up only to design, 
T' entice, and tempt, and undermine : 
In which you all his arts outdo, 
And prove yourselves his betters too. 
Hence 't is possessions do less evil 
Than mere temptations of the devil, 
Which, all the horrid'st actions done, 
Are charg'd in courts of law upon ; 
Because, unless they help the elf, 
He can do little of himself; 
And therefore where he 's best possess'd, 
Acts most against his interest ; 
Surprises none but those wh' have priests 
To turn him out, and exorcists, 
Supplied with spiritual provision, 
And magazines of ammunition, 
With crosses, relics, crucifixes, 
Beads, pictures, rosaries, and pixes ; 
The tools of working our salvation 
By mere mechanic operation ; 
With holy water, like a sluice, 
To overflow all avenues : 
But those who are utterly unarm'd 
T' oppose his entrance, if he storm'd, 
He never offers to surprise, 
Altho' his falsest enemies ; 
But is content to be their drudge, 
And on their errands glad to trudge : 



148 HUDIBRAS. 

For where are all your forfeitures 

Intrusted in safe hands, but ours % 

Who are but gaolers of the holes 

And dungeons, where you clap up souls ; 

Like under-keepers, turn the keys 

T 1 your mittimus anathemas, 

And never boggle to restore 

The members you deliver o"er 

Upon demand, with fairer justice 

Than all your covenanting trustees ; 

Unless to punish them the worse, 

You put them in the sec'lar pow'rs, 

And pass their souls, as some demise 

The same estate in mortgage twice ; 

When to a legal utlegation 

You turn your excommunication, 

And for a groat unpaid that 's due, 

Distrain on soul and body too." 

Ralpho, having at length satisfied his splenetic humour, 
assists the knight to escape from his supposed perils, 
without, however, discovering himself in his real cha- 
racter. After the knight, supposing him an evil spirit, 
has urged the services of his sect in his favour, Ralpho 
replies : — 

" Right (quoth the Voice), and as I scorn 
To be ungrateful, in return 
Of all those kind good offices, 
I '11 free you out of this distress, 
And set you down in safety, where, 
It is no time to tell you here. 
The cock crows, and the morn grows on, 
When 't is decreed I must be gone ; 
And if I leave you here till day, 
You '11 find it hard to get away." 

With that the spirit grop'd about, 
To find th' enchanted hero out, 
And try'd with haste to lift him up ; 
But found his forlorn hope, his crup, 
Unserviceable with kicks and blows 
Receiv'd from hard'ned-hearted foes. 
He thought to drag him by the heels, 
Like Gresham carts, with legs for wheels \ 



HUDIBRAS. 149 

But fear that soonest cures those sores, 

In danger of relapse, to worse, 

Came in t' assist him with its aid, 

And up his sinking vessel weigh'd. 

No sooner was he fit to trudge, 

But both made ready to dislodge ; 

The spirit horsed him like a sack, 

Upon the vehicle, his back. 

And bore him headlong into th' hall, 

With some few rubs against the wall. 

Where finding th' outer postern lock'd, 

And th' avenues as strongly block 'd, 

H' attack'd the window, storm' d the glass, 

And in a moment gain'd the pass ; 

Thro' which he dragg'd the worsted soldier's 

Fore-quarters by the head and shoulders ; 

And cautiously began to scout, , 

To find their fellow-cattle out. 

Nor was it half a minute's quest, 

Ere he retriev'd the champion's beast, 

Tied to a pale, instead of rack, 

But ne'er a saddle on his back, 

Nor pistols at the saddle-bow, 

Convey'd away the Lord knows how. 

He thought it was no time to stay, 

And let the night too steal away ; 

But in a trice advanc'd the knight 

Upon the bare ridge bolt upright. 

And groping out for Ralpho's jade, 

He found the saddle too was stray 'd, 

And in the place a lump of soap, 

On which he speedily leap'd up ; 

And turning to the gate the rein, 

He kick'd and cudgell'd on amain ; 

While Hudibras, with equal haste, 

On both sides laid about as fast, 

And spurr'd as jockeys use, to break, 

Or padders to secure, a neck. 



150 



IHTDIIiRAS. 




Ralpho rescuing the Knight. 



HUDIBRAS, 151 



PART III. CANTO II. 



In this, the Second Canto of the Third Part, the author, 
as we have already stated, altogether leaves his story, and 
gives a rapid sketch, as a political partisan, of the Rebel- 
lion, and the first steps to the Restoration. Into this whirl- 
pool we shall not enter, but merely endeavour to draw a 
few flowers to the shore, to show the humour and art 
with which he has painted characters and events to suit 
his own purpose. From the commencement of the dis- 
cords that distinguished the reign of Charles the First, 
it requires no great stretch of charity to admit that there 
were great and good men on each side, and nothing but 
the weakest partisanship could deny that some of the 
adherents on either side were such as by no means to 
ennoble the cause. The complication of feelings and 
passions, and the great influence of religious matters, 
are well described by M. Guizot in his ' History of the 
English Revolution/ though not altogether exact as to 
the utter dependence of the Church of England. He 
says (we use the translation of Mr. Hazlitt), " In sepa- 
rating herself from the independent head of the Catholic 
church, the Anglican church had lost all its own strength, 
and no longer held her rights or her power but as of the 
power and rights of the sovereigns of the state. She was 
thus bound to the cause of civil despotism, and constrained 
to profess its maxims in order to legitimate her own 
origin ; to serve its interests in order to preserve her own. 
On their part, the nonconformists, in attacking their 
religious adversaries, found themselves also compelled to 
attack the temporal sovereign, and in accomplishing the 
reformation of the church, to assert the liberties of the 
people. The king had succeeded to the pope ; the 
Anglican clergy, successors of the Catholic clergy, no 
longer acted but in the name of the king : throughout, 
in a dogma, a ceremony, a prayer, the erection of an 
altar, the fashion of a surplice, the royal will was com- 
promised in common with that of the bishops, the go- 
vernment in common with the discipline and faith. " In 
favour of all these various topics each party had its 

H 2 



1 52 HUDIBRAS. 

advocates, and most of them were tolerably unscrupulous 
in attacking their adversaries. Many, we may say most, 
of these writers are now deservedly forgotten ; but it is 
surely a bitter partisanship that in these distant days would 
overlook or deny the talents of a Butler or a Milton, 
because they were not devoted to the cause it may now 
consider the better of the two. With a decided bias, 
but not without truth, Butler describes the origin of the 
religious discords more vividly, though not quite so 
favourably as M. Guizot. 

So, ere the storm of war broke out, 

Religion spawn'd a various rout 

Of petulant, capricious sects, 

The maggots of corrupted texts, 

That first run all religion down, 

And after ev'ry swarm, its own. 

And of these various sects he adds — 
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood, 
Nor int'rest for the common good, 
Could, when their profits interfer'd, 
Get quarter for each other's beard :* 
For when they thriv'd they never fadg'd,f 
But only by the ears engag'd : 
Like dogs that snarl about a bone, 
And play together when they Ve none ; 
As by their truest characters, 
Their constant actions, plainly appears. 
Rebellion now began, for lack 
Of zeal and plunder, to grow slack ; 
The Cause and Covenant to lessen, 
And Providence to b' out of season : 
For now there was no more to purchase 
O' th' king's revenue and the churches ; 
But all divided, shar'd, and gone, 
That us'd to urge the brethren on. 
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause 
To cross the cudgels to the laws, 

* It is hardly necessary to remark, that each sect, as it 
attained the ascendancy, became as intolerant as ever the 
Church of England had been. 

f Agreed. 



HUBIBRAS. 153 

That what by breaking them th' had gain'd, 

By their support might be maintained ; 

Like thieves that in a hemp-plot lie, 

Secur'd against the hue-and-cry, 

For Presbyter and Independent 

Were now turn'd plaintiff and defendant ; 

Laid out their apostolic functions, 

On carnal orders and injunctions ; 

And all their precious gifts and graces 

On outlawries and scire facias ; 

At Michael's term had many a trial, 

Worse than the Dragon and St. Michael, 

Where thousands fell, in shape of fees, 

Into the bottomless abyss. 

For when, like brethren and like friends, 

They came to share their dividends, 

And ev'ry partner to possess 

His church and state joint-purchases, 

In which the ablest saint, and best 

Was nam'd in trust by all the rest, 

To pay their money ; and, instead 

Of ev'ry brother, pass the deed ; 

He straight converted all his gifts 

To pious frauds and holy shifts^ 

And settled all the other shares 

Upon his outward man and 's heirs ; 

Held all they claim'd as forfeit lands, 

Deliver'd up into his hands, 

And past upon his conscience, 

By pre-entail of Providence ; 

Impeach'd the rest for reprobates, 

That had no title to estates, 

But by their spiritual attaints 

Degraded from their right of saints. 

He next proceeds to detail the state of the two prin- 
cipal sects, the Presbyterians and Independents, but 
rather in a political than in a religious point of view. 

Poor Presbyter was now reduc'd, 
Secluded, and cashier'd, and chous'd — 
Turn'd out, and excommunicate 
From all affairs of church and state, 



154 HUDIBRAS. 

Reform'd to a reformado saint, 

And glad to turn itinerant, 

To stroll and teach from town to town, 

And those he had taught up, teach down, 

And make those uses serve again 

Against the new-enlight'ned men, 

As fit as when at first they were 

Reveal'd against the Cavalier; 

Damn Anabaptist and fanatic, 

As pat as Popish and Prelatic ; 

And with as little variation, 

To serve for any sect i' tlr nation. 

The good old Cause, which some believe 

To be the devil that tempted Eve 

With knowledge, and does still invite 

The world to mischief with New Light, 

Had store of money in her purse, 

When he took her for better or worse ; 

But now was grown deform'd and poor, 

And fit to be turn'd out of door. 

The Independents, whose first station 
Was in the rear of reformation, 
A mongrel kind of church-dragoons, 
That serv'd for horse and foot at once, 
And in the saddle of one steed 
The Saracen and Christian rid ; 
Were free of ev'ry spiritual order, 
To preach, and fight, and pray, and murder, 
No sooner got the start, to lurch 
Both disciplines, of war and church, 
And providence enough to run 
The chief commanders of 'em down, 
But carried on the war against 
The common enemy o* th* saints, 
And in awhile prevail'd so far, 
To win of them the game of war, 
And be at liberty once more, 
T' attack themselves as th 7 had before. 

There is no occasion to enter upon the disputed ques- 
tion of the true character and motives of the religious 
sects, but the dissensions are well described which paved 
the way to the Restoration j nor shall we attempt to 



HUD1BRAS. 



155 




1 56 HUDIBRAS. 

depreciate the beautiful sketch which follows of the 
character of the Royalists. He has himself done this in 
other parts of his writings, which we shall subsequently 
quote : — 

This when the Royalists perceiv'd 
(Who to their faith as firmly cleav'd, 
And own'd the right they had paid down 
So dearly for, the Church and Crown), 
Th' united constanter, and sided 
The more, the more their foes divided. 
For tho' outnumbered, overthrown, 
And by the fate of war run down, 
Their duty never was defeated, 
Nor from their oaths and faith retreated ; 
For loyalty is still the same 
Whether it win or lose the game ; 
True as the dial to the sun, 
Although it be not shinM upon. 
But when these brethren in evil, 
Their adversaries, and the devil, 
Began once more to show them play, 
And hopes, at least, to have a day, 
They rallied in parades of woods, 
And unfrequented solitudes ; 
Conven'd at midnight in out-houses, 
T' appoint new-rising rendezvouses, 
And with a pert'nacity unmatch'd, 
For new recruits of danger watch'd. 
No sooner was one blow diverted, 
But up another party started, 
And, as if nature too, in haste, 
To furnish out supplies as fast 
Before her time, had turn'd destruction 
T' a new and numerous production ; 
No sooner those were overcome, 
But up rose others in their room, 
That, like the Christian faith, increased 
The more, the more they were suppress'd : 
Whom neither chains, nor transportation, 
Proscription, sale, or confiscation, 
Nor all the desperate events 
Of former tried experiments, 



HUDIBRAS. 157 

Nor wounds, could terrify, nor mangling, 
To leave off loyalty and dangling ; 
Nor death (with all his bones) affright 
From venturing to maintain the right ; 
From staking life and fortune down 
'Gainst all together, for the crown, 
But kept the title of their cause 
From forfeiture, like claims in laws : 
And prov'd no prosp'rous usurpation 
Can ever settle on the nation, 
Until, in spite of force and treason, 
They put their loy'lty in possession ; 
And by their constancy and faith, 
Destroy'd the mighty men of Gath. 

After shortly noticing the death of Oliver Cromwell , 
and the incapacity of his son, 

Who first laid by the parliament, 
The only crutch on which he leant ; 
And then sank underneath the state, 
That rode him above horseman's weight ; 

he proceeds to notice the extraordinary, contradictory, 
and impracticable fancies and opinions that were then 
held and maintained ; and however strange such ideas 
may appear now, he has not stated one that did not at 
the time find its supporters, few or many : 

Some were for setting up a king, 
But all the rest for no such thing, 
Unless King Jesus : others tamper'd 
For Fleetwood, Desborough, and Lambert ; 
Some for the Rump, and some more crafty, 
For agitators and the safety ; 
Some for the gospel, and massacres 
Of spiritual affidavit-makers, 
That swore to any human regenee 
Oaths of supremacy and allegiance ; 
Yea, tho' the ablest swearing saint, 
That vouch' d the bulls o' th' Covenant. 
Others for pulling down th' high-places 
Of synods and provincial classes, 
That us'd to make such hostile inroads 
Upon the saints, like bloody Nimrods : 

h 3 



1 58 HUBIBRAS. 

Some for fulfilling prophecies, 

And th' extirpation cf excise ; 

And some against th' Egyptian bondage 

Of holy-days, and paying poundage : 

Some for the cutting down of groves, 

And rectifying bakers 1 loaves ; 

And some for finding out. expedients, 

Against the slav'ry of obedience. 

Some were for Gospel ministers, 

And some for red-coat seculars, 

As men most fit t' hold forth the Word, 

And wield the one and th' other sword : 

Some were for carrying on the work 

Against the Pope, and some the Turk : 

Some for engaging to suppress 

The camisado of surplices, 

That gifts and dispensations hinder'd, 

And turn'd to th" outward man the inward ; 

More proper for the cloudy night 

Of Popery, than Gospel-light. 

Others were for abolishing 

That tool of matrimony, a ring, 

With which th' unsauctify'd bridegroom 

Is marry' d only to a thumb ; 

(As wise as ringing of a pig, 

That us'd to break up ground and dig ;) 

The bride to nothing but her will, 

That nulls the after-marriage still : 

Some were for th' utter extirpation 

Of linsey-wolsey in the nation ; 

And some against all idolizing 

The Cross in shop-books, or baptizing ; 

Others, to make all things recant 

The Christian, or surname of Saint; 

And force all churches, streets, and towns, 

The holy title to renounce. 

Some 'gainst a third estate of souls, 

Aud bringing down the price of coals ; 

Some for abolishing black-pudding, 

And eating nothing with the blood in ; 

To abrogate them root and branches ; 

While others were for eating haunches 

Of warriors, and now and then, 

The flesh of kings and mighty men • 



HUDIBRAS. 159 

And some for breaking- of their bones 
With rods of iron by secret ones; 
For thrashing mountains, and with spells 
For hallowing carriers' packs and bells. 
Things that the legend never heard of, 
But made the wicked sore afear'd of. 

He next relates, that, amidst this contrariety of de- 
sires, the " quacks of government," who, if they did not 
rule, wished to seem to rule, 

Consider'd timely to withdraw, 

And save their windpipes from the law; 

and therefore met to consult upon the course they 
should pursue. In the debate that ensues, the first 
person he introduces is Anthony Ashley Cooper, the 
Achithophel of Dryden. He had been first a royalist, 
then joined the Parliament, took the covenant, supported 
Cromwell, was active in deposing his son, and was one 
of the twelve commissioners sent by the Commons to 
invite Charles II. from Holland. Under the new mo- 
narch he filled several important offices, and even sat on 
the trial of the regicides. He was shortly afterwards 
made Earl of Shaftesbury and Lord Chancellor, was 
dismissed, and went into violent opposition, being the 
great supporter of the Titus Gates plot, and is said to 
have stimulated the Duke of Monmouth against his 
father. This part of Hudibras was published while 
Shaftesbury was in opposition, and pretty satisfactorily 
contradicts the statement of the poem having been 
written while he was residing with Sir Samuel Luke. 
To this remarkable man he seems to have had a bitter 
dislike, for among his ' Characters ' there is one of ' An 
undeserving Favourite,' supposed to allude to him, which 
was written about 1677, when he was in great favour 
with the king and court. 

'Mong these there was a politician, 
With more heads than a beast in vision, 
And more intrigues in ev'ry one 
Than all the whores of Babylon ; 



160 HUDIBRAS. 

So politic, as if one eye 
Upon the other were a spy :* 
That to trepan the one to think 
The other blind, both strove to blink : 
And in his dark pragmatic way 
As busy as a child at play. 
H' had seen three governments run down, 
And had a hand in ev'ry one ; 
Was for 'em and against 'em all, 
But barb'rous when they came to fall ; 
For by trepanning th' old to ruin, 
He made his int'rest with the new one; 
Play'd true and faithful, though against 
His conscience, and was still advanc'd. 
For by the witchcraft of rebellion 
Transform'd t' a feeble state-chameleon. 
By giving aim to either side, 
He never fail'd to save his tide, 
But got the start of ev'ry state, 
And at a change ne'er came too late ; 
Could turn his word, and oath, and faith, 
As many ways as in a lathe ; 
By turning, wriggle, like a screw, 
Int' highest trust, and out for new. 
For when h' had happily incurred, 
Instead -of hemp, to be preferr'd, 
And pass'd upon a government, 
He play'd his trick, and out he went ; 
But being out, and out of hopes 
To mount his ladder (more) of ropes, 
Would strive to raise himself upon 
The public ruin, and his own. 
;So little did he understand 
{The desp'rate feats he took in hand. 
For when h' had got himself a name 
lEor fraud and tricks, he spoil'd his game ; 
Had forc'd his neck into a noose 
To show his play at fast and loose ; 
And when he chanc'd t' escape, mistook 
For art and subtlety his luck, 
So right his judgment was cut fit, 
And made a tally to his wit, 

* Lord Shaftesbury squinted, and had weak eyes. 






HUDIBRAS. 161 

And both together most profound 
At^deeds of darkness underground : 
As th' earth is easiest undermin'd 
By vermin impotent and blind. 

By all these arts, and many more 
H' had practis'd long and much before, 
Our state-artificer foresaw 
Which way the world began to draw. 
For as old sinners have all points 
O' th' compass in their bones and joints ; 
Can by their pangs and aches find 
All turns and changes of the wind, 
And better than by Napier's bones, 
Feel in their own the age of moons.: 
So guilty sinners in a state, 
Can by their crimes prognosticate, 
And in their consciences feel pain 
Some days before a shower of rain. 
He therefore wisely cast about, 
All ways he could, t' insure his throaty 
And hither came V observe and smoke 
What courses other riskers took : 
And to the utmost do his best 
To save himself, and hang the rest. 

These general characteristics he has also embodied in 
his prose works, where, under the head of a ' State 
Convert/ he says such a one 

Is a thrifty penitent, that never left rebellion until it left 
him. He has always appeared very faithful and constant to 
his principles to the very last : for as he first engaged against 
the crown for no other reason but his own advantages, so he 
afterwards faced about, and declared for it for the very same 
consideration ; and when there was no more to be made of it, 
was thoroughly convinced, and renounced it from the bottom 
of his heart He was very much unsatisfied in his con- 
science with the government of the church, as long as Pres- 
bytery bore the bag, and had money to receive for betraying 
Christ ; but as soon as those saints were gulled and cheated of 
all, and that the covenant began to be no better than a beggarly 
ceremony, his eyes were presently opened, and all his scruples 
vanished in a moment. He did his endeavour to keep out the 
king as long as he could possibly ; but when there was no 
hopes left to prevail any longer, he made a virtue of necessity, 



162 H13DIBKAS. 

and appeared among the foremost of those that were most 
earnest to bring him in; and, like Lipsius's dog, resolved to 
have his share in that which he was able to defend no longer. 
What he gained by serving against the king he laid out to 
purchase profitable employments in his service ; for he is one 
that will neither obey nor rebel against him for nothing ; and 
though he inclines naturally to the latter, yet he has so much 
of a saint left as to deny himself when he cannot have his 
will, and denounce against, self-seeking until he is sure to find 
what he looks for. He pretends to be the only man in the 
world that brought in the king, which is in one sense very 
true ; for if he had not driven him out first, it had been im- 
possible ever to have brought him in. He endures his pre- 
ferment patiently (though he esteems it no better than a re- 
lapse), merely for the profit, he receives by it ; and prevails 
with himself to be satisfied with that and the hopes of seeing 
better times, and then resolves to appear himself again, and let 
the world see he is no changeling : and therefore he rejoices in 
" his heart at any miscarriages of state affairs, and endeavours to 
improve them to the uttermost, partly to vindicate his own 
former actions, and partly in hope to see the times come about 
again to him, as he did to them. 

The other personage described by him is Colonel 
John Lilburn, and though there can be no doubt as to 
the person meant, yet perhaps in order to remove the 
appearance of personality, and to show that even such 
characters as Shaftesbury and Lilburn are to be looked 
at rather as representatives of a class than as individuals, 
Lilburn is introduced here as speaking and acting in 
1660, though Lilburn died in 1657, a fact which must 
have been notorious to every reader at the time of pub- 
lication. He has done the same thing with Henderson, 
the Scottish minister, whom he sends to the Isle of 
Wight, to the conferences with the king, though he 
had died two years before. If he took such pains to 
alter the portraits of really eminent characters, can we 
credit the tales of his painting the exact features of 
ostlers, tailors, or country knights ? 

To match this saint, there was another, 
As busy and perverse a brother, 
A haberdasher of small wares 
In politics and state-affairs ; 



HUDIBBAS, 163 

More Jew than Rabbi Achitophel, 

And better gifted to rebel : 

For when b' bad taught his tribe to 'spouse 

The Cause, aloft, upon one house, 

He scorn' d to set his own in order, 

But tried another, and went further ; 

So sullenly addicted still 

To 's only principle, his will, 

That whatsoe'er it chanc'd to prove, 

Nor force of argument could move, 

Nor law, nor cavalcade of Hoi horn, 

Could render half a grain less stubborn: 

For he at any time would hang, 

For th' opportunity t 1 harangue : 

And rather on a gibbet dangle, 

Than miss his dear delight to wrangle ; 

In which his parts were so accomplished, 

That, right or wrong, he ne'er was non-pluss'd ; 

But still his tongue ran on, the less 

Of weight it bore, with greater ease, 

And with its everlasting clack 

Set all men's ears upou the rack : 

No sooner could a hint appear, 

But up he started to picqueer, 

And made the stoutest yield to mercy, 

When he engaged in controversy ; 

Not by the force of carnal reason, 

But indefatigable teasing ; 

With volleys of eternal babble, 

And clamour more unanswerable : 

For though his topics, frail and weak, 

Could ne'er amount above a freak, 

He still maintained 'em, like his faults, 

Against the desp'ratest assaults ; 

And back'd their feeble want of sense, 

With greater heat and confidence : 

As bones of Hectors, when they differ, 

The more they 're cudgell'd grow the stiffer. 

Yet when his profit moderated, 

The fury of his heat abated ; 

For nothing but his interest 

Could lay his devil of contest : 

It was his choice, or chance, or curse, 

T' espouse the Cause for better or worse, 



164 HUDIBRAS. 

And with his worldly goods and wit, 
And soul, and body, worshipp'd it : 
But when he found the sullen trapes, 
Possess'd with th' devil, worms, and claps ; 
The Trojan mare in foal with Greeks, 
Not half so full of jadish tricks, 
Though squeamish in her outward woman, 
As loose and rampant as Doll Common; 
He still resolv'd to mend the matter, 
T' adhere and cleave the obstinater ; 
And still the skittisher and looser 
Her freaks appear'd, to sit the closer : 
For fools are stubborn in their way, 
As coins are harden'd by th' allay ; 
And obstinacy 's ne'er so stiff, 
As when 't is in a wrong belief. 

These two, with others, being met, 
And close in consultation set ; 
After a discontented pause, 
And not without sufficient cause, 
The orator we nam'd of late, 
Less troubled with the pangs of state, 
Than with his own impatience, 
To give himself first audience, 
After he had a while look'd wise, 
At last broke silence, and the ice. 

These two chiefs, Lilburn and Cooper, are represented 
debating in council as to the proper course of proceed- 
ing, but their dialogue is very long, the references to 
temporary matters very frequent, and perhaps from that 
cause not possessing the sparkle and wit and apophtheg- 
matic wisdom of other parts of the poem. Lilburn, 
after a long detail, begins and recommends union among 
the sectarians, in order to oppose the common enemy — 

" For now the war is not between 
The brethren, and the men of sin ; 
But saint and saint, to spill the blood 
Of one another's brotherhood • 
Where neither side can lay pretence 
To liberty of conscience, 
Or zealous suff 'ring for the cause, 
To gain one groat's-worth of applause; 



HUDIBRAS. 165 

For tho' endur'd with resolution, 

'T will ne'er amount to persecution : 

Shall precious saints and secret ones 

Break one another's outward bones, 

And eat the flesh of brethren, 

Instead of kings and mighty men ? 

When fiends agree among themselves, 

Shall they be found the greater elves ? 

When Bell 's at union with the Dragon ; 

And Baal-Peor friends with Dagon ; 

When savage bears agree with bears, 

Shall secret ones lug saints by th' ears, 

And not atone their fatal wrath, 

When common danger threatens both ? 

Shall mastiffs by the collars pull'd, 

Engag'd with bulls, let. go their hold ? 

And saints whose necks are pawn'd at stake 

No notice of the danger fake ? 

But tho' no pow'r of heav'n or hell 

Can pacify fanatic zeal ; 

Who would not guess there might be hopes, 

The fear of gallowses and ropes, 

Before their eyes might reconcile 

Their animosities awhile % 

At least until th' had a clear stage, 

And equal freedom to engage, 

Without the danger of surprise 

By both our common enemies?" 

But he goes on to complain of ill-usage from the Inde- 
pendents, who had contrived to cheat the Presbyterians 
out of their fair share of the gain. 

Ct We, whom at first they set up under, 
In revelation only of plunder, 
Who since have had so many trials 
Of their encroaching self-denials, 
That rook'd upon us with design 
To out-reform and undermine ; 
Took all our interests and commands 
Perfidiously out of our hands : 
Involv'd us in the guilt of blood, 
Without the motive gains allow'd, 
And made us serve as ministerial, 
Like younger sons of Father Belial. 



166 HUDIBBAS. 

And yet for all th' inhuman wrong 

Th' had done us. and the Cause so long, 

We never fail'd to carry on 

The work still, as we had begun : 

But true and faithfully obey'd, 

And neither preach'd them hurt, nor pray'd : 

Nor troubled them to crop our ears, 

Nor hang us like the cavaliers ; 

Nor put them to the charge of jails, 

To find us pillories and cart-tails, 

Or hangman's wages, which the state 

Was forc'd (before them) to be at ; 

That cut, like tallies, to the stumps 

Out ears for keeping true accompts, 

And burn our vessels, like a new 

Seal'd peck or bushel, for being true ; 

But hand in hand, like faithful brothers, 

Held for the cause against all others ; 

Disdaining equally to yield, 

One syllable of what we held. 

And tho' we differ now and then 

'Bout outward things and outward men ; 

Our inward men and constant frame 

Of spirit still were near the same ; 

And till they first began to cant, 

And sprinkle down the Covenant, 

We ne'er had call in any place, 

Nor dream'd of teaching down free grace, 

But joinM our gifts perpetually 

Against the common enemy. 

Although 't was our and their opinion, 

Each others church was but a Rimmon. 

And yet for all this gospel- union, 

And outward show of church communion, 

They '11 ne'er admit us to our shares, 

Of ruling church or state affairs ; 

Nor give us leave t* absolve or sentence 

T' our own conditions of repentance : 

But shar'd our dividend o' th* crown, 

We had so painfully preach'd down : 

And forc'd us, tho' against the grain, 

T' have calls to teach it up again : 

For 't was but justice to restore 

The wrongs we bad receiv'd before ; 



HUDIBRAS. 167 

And when 't was held forth in our way, 

W had been ungrateful not to pay ; 

Who for the right w' have done the nation, 

Have earn'd our temporal salvation, 

And put our vessels in a way, 

Once more to come again in play : 

For if the turning of us out, 

Has brought this Providence about ; 

And that our only suffering 

Is able to bring in the king : 

What would our actions not have done, 

Had we been suffer' d to go on ? 

And therefore may pretend t' a share 

At least in carrying on th* affair : 

But whether that be so or not, 

W* have done enough to have it thought ; 

And that *s as good as if w' had done 't, 

And easier past upon account ; 

For if it be but half denied, 

*T is half as good as justified." 

Cooper is made to defend the Independents, by attack- 
ing the Presbyterians, enumerating everything that 
could be urged against them as individuals or as a party. 
We give the beginning as a sufficient specimen. 

" In dressing a calf's head, altho' 
The tongue and brains together go, 
Both keep so great a distance here, 
'T is strange if ever they come near ; 
For who did ever play his gambols, 
With such insufferable rambles; 
To make the bringing in the king, 
And keeping of him out, one thing? 
Which none could do, but those that swore 
T* as point-blank nonsense heretofore : 
That to defend, was to invade, 
And to assassinate, to aid : 
Urdess, because you drove him out, 
(And that was never made a doubt) 
No pow'r is able to restore 
And bring him in, but on your score : 
A spiritual doctrine, that conduces 
Most properly to all your uses. 



168 HILDJBltAS. 

'T is true, a scorpion's oil is said 

To cure the wounds the vermin made ; 

And weapons, dress' d with salves, restore 

And heal the hurts they gave before : 

But whether Presbyterians have 

So much good nature as the salve, 

Or virtue in them as the vermin, 

Those who have try'd them can determine. 

Indeed, 't is pity you should miss 

Th' arrears of all your services, 

And for th 1 eternal obligation 

Y' have laid upon th 1 ungrateful nation, 

Be us'd so unconscionably hard, 

As not to find a just reward, 

For letting rapine loose, and murther, 

To rage just so far, but no further : 

And setting all the land on fire 

To burn t' a scantling, but no higher : 

For vent'ring to assassinate, 

And cut the throats of church and state ; 

And not be allowM the fittest men 

To take the charge of both again : 

Especially that have the grace 

Of self-denying, gifted face; 

Who, when your projects have miscarry'd, 

Can lay them, with undaunted forehead, 

On those you painfully trepanned, 

And sprinkled in at second hand ; 

As we have been, to share the guilt 

Of Christian blood, devoutly spilt ; 

For so our ignorance was flamm'd 

To damn ourselves, t' avoid being damn'd ; 

Till finding your old foe, the hangman, 

Was like to lurch you at backgammon 

And win your necks upon the set, 

As well as ours, who did but bet ; 

(For he had drawn your ears before 

And nick'd them on the self-same score,) 

We threw the box and dice away, 

Before y' had lost us at foul play ; 

And brought you down to rook and lie, 

And fancy only, on the by, 

Redeem'd your forfeit jobbernoles, 

From perching upon lofty poles ; 






HUDIBRAS. 169 

And rescued all your outward traitors 

From hanging up like alligators ; 

For which ingeniously y' have shew'd 

Your Presbyterian gratitude ; 

Would freely have paid us home in kind, 

And not have been one rope behind. 

Those were your motives to divide, 

And scruple, on the other side, 

To turn your zealous frauds, and force, 

To fits of conscience and remorse : 

To be convinc'd they were in vain, 

And face about for new again : 

For truth no more unveil'd your eyes, 

Than maggots when they turn to flies : 

And therefore, all your lights and calls 

Are but apocryphal, and false, 

To charge us with the consequences 

Of all your native insolences ; 

That to your own imperious wills, 

Laid law and gospel neck and heels ; 

Corrupted the Old Testament, 

To serve the New for precedent ; 

T' amend its errors and defects, 

With murther and rebellion texts ; 

Of which there is not any one, 

In all the book to sow upon ; 

And therefore (from your tribe) the Jews 

Held Christian doctrine forth, and use ; 

As Mahomet (your chief) began 

To mix them in the Alcoran ; 

Denounc'd and pray'd, with fierce devotion, 

And bended elbows on the cushion ; 

Stole from the beggars all your tones, 

And gifted mortifying groans ; 

Had lights where better eyes were blind, 

As pigs are said to see the wind : 

FilPd Bedlam with predestination, 

And Knightsbridge with illumination : 

Made children, with your tones to run for 't, 

As bad as Bloody bones or Lunsford." 

Toward the end of his discourse he points out the 
ends to be attained, and the means to be pursued for 
gaining them, in a most ingenious Maehiavelian spirit. 



170 HUDIBRAS. 

" I grant, all courses are in vain, 
Unless we can get in again : 
The only way that 's left us now, 
But all the difficulty 's, how ? 
'T is true w' have mone}', th' only pow'r 
That all mankind falls down before ; 
Money, that like the swords of kings, 
Is the last reason of all things ; 
And therefore need not doubt our play 
Has all advantages that way : 
As long as men have faith to sell, 
And meet with those that can pay well ; 
Whose half-starv'd pride and avarice, 
One church and state will not suffice 
T' expose to sale ; besides the wages 
Of storing plagues to after-ages. 
Nor is our money less our own, 
Than 't was before we laid it down ; 
For 't will return, and turn t' account, 
If we are brought in play upon "t; 
Or but by casting knaves, get in, 
What pow'r can hinder us to win ? 
We know the arts we us'd before, 
In peace and war, and something more. 
And by th' unfortunate events, 
Can mend our own experiments : 
For when w 5 are taken into trust, 
How easy are the wisest chous'd % 
Who see but th' outsides of our feats, 
And not their secret springs and weights : 
And while th* are busy, at their ease, 
Can carry what designs we please : 
How easy is 't to serve for agents, 
To prosecute our old engagements ? 
To keep the good old Cause on foot, 
And prevent power from taking root ; 
Inflame them both with false alarms 
Of plots and parties taking arms; 
To keep the nation's wounds too wide 
From healing up of side to side. 
Profess the passionat"st concerns, 
For both their interests by turns ; 
The only way t' improve our own, 
By dealing faithfully with none ; 






HUB1BRAS. 171 

(As bowls run true by being made 
On purpose false, and to be sway'd) 
For if we should be true to either,- 
T would turn us out of both together ; 
And therefore have no other means, 
To stand upon our own defence, 
But keeping up our ancient party 
In vigour, confident and hearty : 
To reconcile our late dissenters, 
Our brethren, tho by other venters, 
Unite them, and their different maggots, 
As long and short sticks are in faggots. 
And make them join again as close, 
As when they first began t' espouse ; 
Erect them into separate 
New Jewish tribes in church and state ; 
To join in marriage and commerce, 
And only 'mong themselves converse, 
And all that are not of their mind, 
Make enemies to all mankind : 
Take all religions in, and stickle 
From conclave down to conventicle ; 
Agreeing still, or disagreeing, 
According to the light in being, 
Sometimes for liberty of conscience, 
And spiritual misrule in one sense ; 
But in another quite contrary, 
As dispensations chance to vary ; 
And stand for, as the times will bear it, 
All contradictions of the spirit : 
Protect their emissaries, empowYd 
To preach sedition and the word ; 
And when tW are hamper'd by the laws, 
Release the lab'rers for the cause ; 
And turn the persecution back 
On those that made the first attack, 
To keep them equally in awe, 
For breaking or maintaining law : 
And when they have their fits too soon, 
Before the full-tides of the moon ; 
Put off their zeal t' a fitter season 
For sowing faction in and treason ; 
And kept them hooded, and their churches, 
Like hawks, from baiting on their perches ; 



172 HUDIBRAS. 

That when the blessed time shall come 
Of quitting Babylon and Rome, 
They may be ready to restore 
Their own Fifth Monarchy once more : 
Meanwhile be better arm'd to fence 
Against revolts of Providence : 
By watching narrowly, and snapping 
All blind sides of it, as they happen : 
For if success could make us saints, 
Our ruin turn'd us miscreants: 
A scandal that would fall too hard 
Upon a few, and unprepar'd. 

" These are the courses we must run, 
Spite of our hearts, or be undone ; 
And not to stand on terms and freaks, 
Before we have secur'd our necks. 

" But do our work, as out of sight 
As stars by day and suns by night ; 
All licence of the people own 
In opposition to the crown : 
And for the crown as fiercely side, 
The head and body to divide. 
The end of all we first design' d, 
And all that yet remains behind. 
Be sure to spare no public rapine, 
On all emergencies that happen ; 
For 't is as easy to supplant 
Authority, as men in want ; 
As some of us in trust have made, 
The one hand with the other trade ; 
Gain'd vastly by their joint endeavour, 
The right a thief, the left receiver ; 
And what the one by tricks forestall'd, 
The other, by as sly, retail' d. 
For gain has wonderful effects, 
T' improve the factory of sects ; 
The rule of faith in all professions, 
And great Diana of th' Ephesians ; 
Whence turning of religion 's made 
The means to turn and wind a trade. 
And tho' some change it for the worse, 
They put themselves into a course ; 
And draw in store of customers, 
To thrive the better in commerce : 



HUDIBRAS. 173 

For all religions flock together 
* Like tame and wild fowl of a feather; 
To nab the itches of their sects, 
As jades do one another's necks. 
Hence 't is hypocrisy as well 
Will serve t' improve a church, as zeal ; 
As persecution or promotion 
Do equally advance devotion. 
Let business, like ill watches, go 
Sometimes too fast, sometimes too slow ; 
For things in order are put out 
So easy, ease itself will do 't : 
But when the feat 's design'd and meant, 
What miracle can bar the event ? 
For 't is more easy to betray, 
Than ruin any other way." 

The discussion is at length brought to a close ; for 
while Cooper is still haranguing— 

A shout, 
Heard at a distance, put him out ; 
And straight another, all aghast, 
Rush'd in with equal fear and haste : 
Who star'd about, as pale as death, 
And for a while, as out of breath ; 
'Till, having gather" d up his wits, 
He thus began his tale by fits : 

" That beastly rabble that came down 

From all the garrets in the town, 

And stalls, and shop-boards in vast swarms, 

With new chalk' d bills and rusty arms, 

To cry the Cause up, heretofore, 

And bawl the Bishops out of door ; 

Are now drawn up — — in greater shoals, 
To roast — -and broil us on the coals, 

And all the grandees of our members 

Are carbonading on the embers ; 

Knights, citizens, and burgesses 

Held forth by rumps of pigs and geese, 

That serve for characters and badges 

To represent their personages. 
Each bonfire is a funeral pile, 
In which they roast, and scorch, and broil ; 

I 



174 HUDIBRAS. 

And ev'ry representative 

Havevow'd to roast and broil alive/' * • 

The messenger proceeds afterwards more leisurely to 
discuss the proceedings of the Rump-burners, and the 
mystery concealed under that emblem. 

" Nor have they chosen Rumps amiss, 
For symbols of state-mysteries ; 
Tho' some suppose, 't was but to show 
How much they scorn'd the saints, the few, 
Who, 'cause they 're wasted to the stumps, 
Are represented best by rumps. 
But Jesuits have deeper reaches 
In all their politic far-fetches ; 
And from the Coptic priest, Kircherus, 
Fouud out this mystic way to jeer us : 
For, as the Egyptians us'd by bees 
T' express their ancient Ptolemies ; 
And by their stings, the swords they wore, 
Held forth authority and pow'r ; 
Because these subtle animals 
Bear all their int'rests in their tails; 
And when they 're once impair'd in that, 
Are banish' d their well-order'd state : 
They thought, all governments were best 
By hieroglyphic Rumps exprest. 

" For, as in bodies natural, 
The rump 's the fundament of all ; 
So, in a commonwealth or realm, 
The government is call'd the helm : 
With which, like vessels under sail, 
They 're turn'd and winded by the tail, — 
The tail, which birds and fishes steer 
Their courses with, thro' sea and air ; 
To whom the rudder of the rump is 
The same thing with the stern and compass. 



* This messenger is said to have been a real person, Sir 
Martin Noel, who brought the intelligence at nine o'clock at 
night to the Council of State that the citizens were burning 
the Rump, as the remnant of the Parliamentary party was con- 
temptuously styled. 



HUDIBRAS. 175 

This shows how perfectly the Rump 
And Commonwealth in Nature jump. 
For as a fly that goes to bed, 
Rests with his tail above his head ; 
So in this mongrel state of ours 
The rabble are the supreme powers, 
That hors'd us on their backs, to show us 
A jadish trick at last, and throw us. 1 ' 

He is still proceeding when 

a near and louder shout 
Put all th' assembly to the rout, 
Who now began t' outrun their fear, 
As horses do, from those they bear ; 
But crowded on with so much haste, 
Until th 1 had block'd the passage fast, 
And barricado'd it with haunches 
Of outward men, and bulks and paunches, 
That with their shoulders strove to squeeze 
And rather save a crippled piece 
Of all their crush'd and broken members, 
Than have them grilly'd on the embers ; 
Still pressing on with heavy packs 
Of one another on their backs, 
The vanguard could no longer bear 
The charges of the forlorn rear, 
But, borne down headlong by the rout, 
Were trampled sorely under foot ; 
Yet nothing prov'd so formidable 
As th' horrid cook'ry of the rabble ; 
And fear, that keeps all feeling out, 
As lesser pains are by the gout, 
Reliev'd 'em with a fresh supply 
Of rally'd force, enough to fly, 
And beat a Tuscan running-horse, 
Whose jockey rider is all spurs. 



12 



176 



HUDIBRAS 




The Saints dispersing. 



HUDIBRAS. 177 



PART III. CANTO III. 

The poet returns to his story and his hero, in order to 
relate the history of the rescue and its consequences. 
Uncomfortably mounted and equivocally conducted, the 
knight could not but feel an almost equal anxiety to 
escape from his pursuers and be secure from his guide. 
The general effects of fear, as well as its peculiar effect 
on the mind of Hudibras, are admirably described : — ■ 

Who would believe what strange bugbears 

Mankind creates itself, of fears, 

That spring, like fern, that insect weed, 

Equivocally, without seed ; 

And have no possible foundation, 

But merely in th' imagination, 

And yet can do more dreadful feats, 

Than hags, with all their imps and teats ; 

Make more bewitch and haunt themselves 

Than all their nurseries of elves. 

For fear does things so like a witch, 

'T is hard t* unriddle which is which ; 

Sets up communities of senses, 

To chop and change intelligences ; 

As Rosier ucian virtuosis 

Can see with ears, and hear with noses ; 

And when they neither see nor hear, 

Have more than both supplied by fear. 

That makes 'em in the dark see visions, 

And hag themselves with apparitions, 

And, when their eyes discover least, 

Discern the subtlest objects best; 

Do things not contrary alone 

To th" course of nature, but its own ; 

The courage of the bravest daunt, 

And turn poltroons as valiant : 

For men as resolute appear 

With too much, as too little fear ; 

And, when they 're out of hopes of flying, 

Will run away from death, by dying ; 

Or turn again to stand it out ; 

And those they fled, like lions, rout. 

This Hudibras had prov'd too true, 
Who by the furies left perdue, 



178 HUDIBRAS, 

And haunted with detachments, sent 
From Marshal Legion's regiment, 
Was by a fiend, as counterfeit, 
Reliev'd and rescu'd with a cheat, 
When nothing but himself, and fear, 
Was both the imps and conjurer ; 
As by the rules o' th' virtuosi, 
It follows in due form of poesie. 

Disguis'd in all the masks of night, 
We left our champion on his flight, 
At blindman's buff to grope his wa} r , 
In equal fear of night and day ; 
Who took his dark and desp'rate course, 
He knew no better than his horse ; 
And by an unknown devil led, 
He knew as little whither, fled. 
He never was in greater need, 
Nor less capacity of speed ; 
Disabled, both in man and beast, 
To fly and run away, his best : 
To keep the enemy, and fear, 
From equal falling on his rear. 
And tho' with kicks and bangs he plied 
The further and the nearer side ; 
(As seamen ride with all their force, 
And tug as if they row'd the horse ; 
And when the hackney sails most swift, 
Believe they lag, or run adrift ;) 
So, tho* he posted e'er so fast, 
His fear was greater than his haste : 
For fear, tho' fleeter than the wind, 
Believes *t is always left behind. 

The day breaking, at length disclosed to the knight 
that his deliverer was no other than Ralpho, with whom, 
when he had been informed of the merely human means 
by which he had been terrified, he is half inclined to 
quarrel, accusing the poor squire of having caused him 

u . To make me put myself to flight, 

And, conqu'ring, run away by night ; 

To drag me out, which th' haughty foe 

Durst never have presum'd to do ; 

To mount me in the dark, by force, 

Upon the bare ridge of my horse, 



HUDIBRAS. 179 

Expos'd in cuerpo to their rage, 
Without my arms and equipage ; 
Lest, if they ventur'd to pursue, 
I might th' unequal fight renew ; 
And, to preserve my outward man, 
Assum'd my place, and led the van.' t 

Ralpho acknowledges the fact, expatiates on the 
danger they were in, defends his conduct in the mode 
he had adopted in rescuing the knight, and argues very 
strongly in favour of flying : — 

" For those that fly, may fight again, 

Which he can never do that "s slain. 

Hence timely running 's no mean part 

Of conduct, in the martial art, 

By which seme glorious feats achieve, 

As citizens, by breaking, thrive, 

And cannons conquer armies, while 

They seem to draw off and recoil ; 

Is held the gallant'st course, and bravest, 

To great exploits, as well as safest; 

That spares th' expense of time and pains, 

And dangerous beating out of brains. 

And, in the end, prevails as certain, 

As those that never trust to Fortune ; 

But make their fear do execution 

Beyond the stoutest resolution ; 

As earthquakes kill without a blow, 

And, only trembling, overthrow. 

If th' ancients crown'd their bravest men, 

That only sav'd a citizen, 

"What victory could e'er be won, 

If ev'ry one would save but one ? 

Or fight endanger' d to be lost, 

Where all resolve to save the most? 

By this means, when a battle 's won, 

The war *s as far from being done ; 

For those that save themselves, and fly, 

Go halves, at least, i' th' victory ; 

And sometimes, when the loss is small, 

And danger great, they challenge all ; 

Print new additions to their feats, 

And emendations in gazettes ; 



180 HUDIBRAS, 

And when, for furious haste to run, 

They durst not stay to fire a gun, 

Have done 't with bonfires, and at home 

Made squibs and crackers overcome ; 

To set the rabble in a flame, 

And keep their governors from blame, 

Disperse the news, the pulpit tells, 

Confirm'd with fireworks and with bells : 

And tho' reduc'd to that extreme, 

They have been forc'd to sing Te Deum; 

Yet, with religious blasphemy, 

By flatfring heaven with a lie ; 

And for their beating, giving thanks, 

They 've rais'd recruits, and filld their banks, 

For those who run from th' enemy, 

Engage them equally to fly ; 

And when the fight becomes a chace, 

Those win the day that win the race ; 

And that which would not pass in rights, 

Has done the feat with easy flights. " 

Hudibras, in his reply, partly admitting the force of 
the squire's reasoning, calls to mind the fact that during 
the civil war defeats were often claimed as victories, and 
seems to have fallen upon a notion that has been thought 
more modern in the campaigning art, namely, that the 
success of a war depends on the commissariat, together 
with which he contrives to introduce some curious ridi- 
cule of the modern " art of war." 

U, T is true our modern way of war 
Is grown more politic by far, 
But not so resolute and bold, 
Nor tied to honour, as the old. 
For now they laugh at giving battle, 
Unless it be to herds of cattle ; 
Or fighting convoys of provision, 
The whole design o' th' expedition ; 
And not with downright blows to rout 
The enemy, but eat them out : 
As fighting, in all beasts of prey, 
And eating, are perform'd one way, 
To give defiance to their teeth, 
And fight their stubborn guts to death ; 



HUDIBRAS. 181 

And those achieve the high'st renown, 
That bring the other's stomachs down. 
There 's now no fear of wounds nor maiming, 
All dangers are reduc'd to famine ; 
And feats of arms, to plot, design, 
Surprise, and stratagem, and mine ; 
But have no need, nor use of courage, 
Unless it be for glory, or forage : 
For if they fight, ? t is but by chance, 
When one side vent'ring to advance, 
And come uncivilly too near, 
Are charg'd unmercifully i' th' rear, 
1 And forced, with terrible resistance, 
To keep hereafter at a distance, 
To pick out ground t' encamp upon, 
Where store of largest rivers run, 
That serve, instead of peaceful barriers, 
To part th' engagements of their warriors ; 
Where both from side to side may skip, 
And only encounter at bo-peep : 
For men are found the stouter-hearted, 
The certainer they *re to be parted, 
And therefore post themselves in bogs, 
As th' ancient mice attack'd the frogs ; 
And made their mortal enemy, 
The water-rat, their strict ally,. 
For 5 t is not now, who 's stout and bold ? 
But who bears hunger best, and cold % 
And he's approv'd the most deserving, 
Who longest can hold out at starving : 
And he that routs most pigs and cows, is 
The formidablest man at prowess. 
So th' Emperor Caligula, 
That triumph'd o'er the British sea, 
Took crabs and oysters prisoners, 
And lobsters, 'stead of cuirassiers ; 
Engag'd his legions in fierce bustles, 
With periwinkles, prawns, and muscles ; 
And led his troops with furious gallops, 
To charge whole regiments of scallops ; 
Not like their ancient way of war 
To wait on his triumphal car ; 
But when he went to dine or sup, 
More bravely ate his captives up, 

i3 



182 HUDIBRAS. 

And left all war, by his example, 
Reduc'd to vict'lling of a camp well." 

Whereupon Ralpho suggests, as the knight has already 
tried war and cunning as means of winning the widow, 
and failed in both, he should now go to law with her, 
and gives the following character of that profession, in 
which, as in all the author's portraits, all the ill that 
can be said is most humorously and forcibly adduced 
against it ; but we feel here, as elsewhere, that though 
the abuses of the law, and the main features of the per- 
sonage described by Hudibras, may be true, they are 
collected from various sources, and could not have been 
intended to convey a general opinion of the profession, 
or to depict an individual portrait. 

" For law 's the wisdom of all ages, 

And manag'd by the ablest sages, 

Who, tho' their business at the bar 

Be but a kind of civil war, 

In which th' engage with fiercer dudgeons 

Than e'er the Grecians did, and Trojans, 

They never manage the contest 

T' impair their public interest ' y 

Or by their controversies lessen 

The dignity of their profession : 

Not like us brethren, who divide 

Our common-wealth, the cause, and side ; 

And tho' w' are all as near of kindred 

As th' outward man is to the inward ; 

We agree in nothing, but to wrangle 

About the slightest fingle-fangle, 

While lawyers have more sober sense, 

Than t' argue at their own expense, 

But make their best advantages 

Of others 1 quarrels, like the Swiss ; 

And out of foreign controversies, 

By aiding both sides, fill their purses; 

But have no int'rest in the cause, 

For which th' engage, and wage the laws, 

Nor further prospect than their pay, 

Whether they lose or win the day. 

And tho 1 th' abounded in all ages, 

With sundry learned clerks and sages ; 



HUDIBRAS. 183 

Tho' all their business be dispute, 
Which way they canvass ev'ry suit; 
Th' have no disputes about their art, 
Nor in polemics controvert; 
While all professions else are found 
With nothing but disputes t' abound : 
Divines of all sorts, and physicians, 
Philosophers, mathematicians, 
The Galenists and Paracelsian, 
Condemn the way each other deals in ; 
Anatomists dissect and mangle, 
To cut themselves out work to wrangle ; 
Astrologers dispute their dreams, 
That in their sleeps they talk of schemes ; 
And heralds stickle who got who, 
So many hundred years ago. 

" But lawyers are too wise a nation, 
T' expose their trade to disputation, 
Or make the busy rabble judges 
Of all their secret piques and grudges; 
In which, whoever wins the day, 
The whole profession 's sure to pay. 
Beside, no mountebanks, nor cheats, 
Dare undertake to do their feats ; 
When in all other sciences 
They swarm like insects, and increase. 

" For what bigot durst ever draw, 
By inward light, a deed in law ? 
Or could hold forth, by revelation, 
An answer to a declaration ? 
For those that meddle with their tools, 
Will cut their fingers, if they 're fools." 

Hudibras objects to the advice, of course, but resolves 
to follow it : — 

All plagiaries constant course, 

Of sinking, when they take a purse. 

He therefore first recounts all the objections, true or 
false, that are alleged against law and lawyers, and con- 
trives to appear to adopt the course suggested chiefly, 
as he says, on account of Sidrophel : 

Quoth he, " This gambol thou advisest, 
Is of all others the unwisest : 



184 HUDIBRAS. 

For if I think by law to gain her, 

There 's nothing sillier, nor vainer. 

'T is but to hazard my pretence ; 

Where nothing *s certain but th' expense : 

To act against my self, and traverse 

My suit and title to her favours ; 

And if she should, which Heav'n forbid, 

O'erthrow me, as the fiddler did, 

What after-course have I to take, 

'Gainst losing all I have at stake? 

He that with injury is griev'd, 

And goes to law to be reliev'd, 

Is sillier than a sottish chouse, 

Who, when a thief has robb'd his house, 

Applies himself to cunning men, 

To help him to his goods again ; 

When all he can expect to gain, 

Is but to squander more in vain : 

And yet 1 have no other way 

But is as difficult to play : 

For to reduce her by main force, 

Is now in vain ; by fair means, worse ; 

But worst of all, to give her over, 

Till she 's as desp'rate to recover : 

For bad games are thrown up too soon. 

Until they 're never to be won. 

And since I have no other course, 

But is as bad f attempt, or worse, 

He that complies against his will, 

Is of his own opinion still ; 

Which he may adhere to, yet disown, 

For reasons to himself best known ; 

But 't is not to b' avoided now, 

For Sidrophel resolves to sue ; 

Whom I must answer, or begin, 

Inevitably, first with him : 

For I 've receiv'd advertisement, 

By times, enough of his intent ; 

And knowing he that first complains, 

Th' advantage of the business gains : 

For courts of justice understand 

The plaintiff to be eldest hand : 

Who, what he pleases may aver, 

The other nothing till he swear ; 



HUDIBRAS. 185 

Is freely admitted to all grace, 
And lawful favour, by his place : 
And, for his bringing custom in, 
Has all advantages to win ;" 

and he thereupon recalls to mind a lawyer, u most apt 
for what he has to do," whose character, as justice, is 
drawn in strong colours, though they do not materially 
differ from that of more than one of Fielding's, parti- 
cularly of one described in that writer's ' Amelia.' The 
original is said to have been one Prideaux, who un- 
doubtedly had a bad character, and may have furnished 
hints ; but we fear in that stormy time, and even long 
afterward, till the magistracy was very effectively re- 
formed, instances of mercenary and ignorant magistrates 
were too frequent to reduce an author to the necessity of 
choosing one only for his portrait : — 

An old dull sot, who told the clock 
For many years at Bridewell-dock, 
At Westminster and Hicks's-hall, 
And Hiccius Doctius play'd in all ; 
Where in all governments and times, 
H' had been both friend and foe to crimes, 
And us'd two equal ways of gaining, 
By hind'ring justice, or maintaining. 

En gag' d the constable to seize 
All those that would not break the peace ; 
Nor give him back his own foul words, 
Tho' sometimes commoners, or lords, 
And kept 'em prisoners of course, 
For being sober at ill hours ; 
That in the morning he might free 
Or bind 'em over, for his fee. 
Made monsters fine, and puppets-plays, 
For leave to practise in their ways : 
Farm'd out all cheats, and went a share 
With th' head borough and scavenger. 
And made the dirt i' th' streets compound 
For taking up the public ground ; 
The kennel, and the king's highway, 
For being unmolested, pay ; 



186 



HUDIBRAS. 



Let out the stocks, and whipping-post, 

And cage, to those that gave him most ; 

Impos'd a tax on bakers' ears, 

And for false weights on chandelers ; 

Made victuallers and vintners fine 

For arbitrary ale and wine : 

But was a kind and constant friend 

To all that regularly offend : 

As residentiary bawds, 

^nd brokers that receiv'd stol'ii goods ; 

That cheat in lawful mysteries, 

Vnd pay church duties, and bis fees ; 

3ut was implacable and awkward, 

To all that interlop'd and hawkerd. 

To this brave man the knight repairs 
lTor counsel in his law affairs ; 
And found him mounted in his pew, 
With books and money plac'd for show, 
Like nest-eggs to make clients lay, 
And for his false opinion pay : 
To whom the knight, with comely grace.. 
Put. off his hat, to put his case : 
Which he as proudly entertain'd y 
As th' other courteously strain'd ; 
And to assure him 't was not that 
He look'd for, bid him put on 's hat. 

The knight then, with much art, begins by detailing 
to the lawyer his adventure with Sidrophel, who encou- 
rages him with interjections of equivocal or no meaning, 
till he at length states that there is a widow " that 's 
easily prov'd accessary;'* and who had also contracted 
herself by solemn vows to him, and accuses her of break- 
ing her word, and of having made an assault with 
fiends and men upon his body. The lawyer declares 
he has an excellent case, and instructs him how to 
strengthen it : — 

" But you may swear at any rate, 

Things not in nature, for the state ; 

For in all courts of justice here 

A witness is not said to swear, 

But make oath, that is, in plain terms, 

To forge whatever he affirms." 



HUDIBRAS. 187 

" I thank you, 1 ' quoth the knight, " for that, 
Because 't is to my purpose pat — " 
" For Justice, tho* she 's painted blind, 
Is to the weaker side inclin d, 
Like Charity ; else right and wrong 
Could never hold it out so long, 
And, like blind Fortune, with a sleight, 
Convey men's interest and right, 
From Stiles's pocket into Nokes's, 
As easily as hocus-pocus ; 
Plays fast and loose, makes men obnoxious, 
And clear again, like Hiccius Doctius. 
Then whether you would take her life, 
Or but recover her for your wife ; 
Or be content with what she has, 
And let all other matters pass ; 
The business to the law 's all one, 
The proof is all it looks upon; 
And you can want no witnesses, 
To swear to any thing you please, 
That hardly get their mere expenses 
By th' labour of their consciences, 
Or letting out to hire their ears 
To affidavit customers, 
At inconsiderable values, 
To serve for jury-men, or tallies, 
Although retain 'd in th' hardest matters, 
Of trustees and administrators." 

Hudibras undertakes to supply these, and the lawyer 
concludes — 

f In th' int'rim, spare for no trepans, 
To draw her neck into the banns ; 
Ply her with love letters, and billets, 
And bait 'em well for quirks and quillets, 
With trains t* inveigle and surprise 
Her heedless answers and replies ; 
And if she miss the mouse-trap lines, 
They 11 serve for other by*desigus ; 
And make an artist understand 
To copy out her seal, or hand ; 
Or find void places in the paper, 
To steal in something to entrap her ; 



HUDIBKAS. 

'Till, with her worldly goods and body, 

Spite of her heart, she has endow' d ye : 

Retain all sorts of witnesses, 

That ply i r th' Temple, under trees ; 

Or walk the round, with knights o' th' posts, 

About the crossdegg'd knights, their hosts ; 

Or wait for customers between 

The pillar-rows in Lincoli/s-inn, 

Where vouchers, forgers, common-bail, 

And affidavit-men, ne'er fail 

T' expose to sale all sorts of oathg, 

According to their ears and clothes r 

Their only necessary tools, 

Besides the Gospel, and their souls ; 

And when y' are furnish'd with all purveys, 

I shall be ready at your service/*' 

The knight " longs " to practise the adviee ; declar- 
ing he would not give 

" A straw to understand a case, 

Without the admirable skill 

To wind and manage it at will ; 

To veer, and tack, and steer a cause, 

Against the weather-gage of laws ; 

And ring the changes upon cases, 

As plain as noses upon faces ; 

As you have well instructed me, 

For which you 've earn'd (here 't is) your fee ; 

I long to practise your advice, 

And try the subtle artifice ; 

To bait a letter as you bid :" 

As not long after this he did, 

For, having pumped up all his wit, 

And humm'd upon it, thus he writ. 

We have now arrived at the closing section of the poem, 
in which Hudibras proceeds to carry into effect the ad- 
vice of the lawyer, by writing to his mistress. How it 
is to forward his object, it would be difficult to conceive ; 
but it no doubt answered the author's purpose, by giving 
him an opportunity of displaying his hero's disputative- 
ness, his unprincipledness, and his special pleading in 



HUDIBRAS. 



189 







190 HUDIBRAS. 

defence of that want of principle, illustrated with all his 
own wit and pungent satire : while the lady's answer, 
to which it gives rise, contains a most humorous expo- 
sure to the pretences used in making love, as opposed to 
and contrasted with the real motives. He entitles the 
knight's letter " An Historical Epistle of Hudibras to 
his Lady," and it certainly begins in a very heroic 
strain : — 

" I, who was once as great as Caesar, 
¥ Am now reduc'd to Nebuchadnezzar ; 
And from as fam'd a conqueror 
As ever took degree in war, 
Or did his exercise in battle, 
By you turn'd out to grass with cattle : 
For since I am deny'd access 
To allfmy earthly happiness, 
Am fallen from the Paradise 
Of your good graces and fair eyes ; 
Lost to the world, and you, I 'm sent 
To everlasting banishment, 
Where all the hopes I had V have won 
Your heart, being dash'd, will break my own. 

" Yet if you were not so severe 
To pass your doom before you hear, 
You 'd find, upon my just defence, 
How much y' have wrong'd my innocence. 
That once I made a vow to you, 
Which yet is unperform'd, 't is true ; 
But not because it is unpaid 
'T is violated, though delay'd. 
Or if it were, it is no fault 
So heinous as you 'd have it thought ; 
To undergo the loss of ears, 
Like vulgar hackney perjurers ; 
For there 's a difference in the case, 
Between the noble and the base ; 
Who always are observ'd t' have done 't 
Upon as diff'rent an account : 
The one for great and weighty cause, 
To salve, in honour, ugly flaws, 
For none are like to do it sooner 
Than those wh' are nicest of their honour ; 



HUDIBRAS. 



191 



The other for base gain and pay- 
Forswear and perjure by the day ; 
And. make th' exposing and retailing 
Their souls and consciences a calling." 

He then argues against any over-exactness in keeping an 
oath, contending that the great and noble naturally abhor 
so doing — 

u Though 't is perfidiousness and shame 

In meaner men to do the same : 

For to be able to forget 

Js found more useful to the great, 

Than gout, or deafness, or bad eyes ;" 

and adds, what has been and is far too commonly urged 
on great as well as many minor occasions, that — 

u Besides, oaths are not bound to bear 
That literal sense the words infer ; 
But, by the practice of the age, 
Are to be judged how far th' engage; 
And where the sense by custom 's check'd. 
Are found void, and of none effect. 
For no man takes or keeps a vow, 
But just as he sees others do ; 
Nor are th' obliged to be so brittle, 
As not to yield and bow a little : 
For as best-temper' d blades are found, 
Before they break, to bend quite round : 
So truest oaths are still most tough, 
And, tho' they bow, are breaking proof. 
Then wherefore should they not b' allow'd 
In love a greater latitude?" 

He then asserts that Love — high and mighty Love — is 
at least above such trifling bonds : — 

" For as the law of arms approves 
All ways to conquest, so should Love's ; 
And not be ty'd to true or false, 
But make that justest that prevails : 
For how can that which is above 
All empire — high and mighty Love, 



1 92 HUDIBKAS. 

Submit its great prerogative 

To any other pow'r alive 1 

Shall Love, that to no crown gives place, 

Become the subject of a case u ? 

The fundamental law of Nature 

Be over-rul'd by those made after ? 

Commit the censure of its cause 

To any but its own great laws ? 

Love, that 's the world's preservative — 

That keeps all souls of things alive ; 

Controls the mighty pow'r of Fate, 

And gives mankind a longer date ; 

The life of Nature, that restores 

As fast as Time and Death devours ; 

To whose free gift the world does owe 

Not only earth, but heaven too."' 

He next urges, as a justification for his own tricks, 
the ill treatment he had received from her hands, and 
also what mankind suffers generally from the softer 
sex : — 

i( You wound, like Parthians, while you fly, 

And kill with a retreating eye ; 

Retire the more, the more we press, 

To draw us into ambushes : 

As pirates all false colours wear, 

T' entrap th' unwary mariner ; 

So women, to surprise us, spread 

The borrow' d flags of white and red ; 

Display 'em thicker on their cheeks, 

Than their old grandmothers, the Picts ; 

And raise more devils with their looks, 

Than conjurors' less subtle books : 

Lay trains of amorous intrigues, 

In tow'rs, and curls, and periwigs, 

With greater art and cunning rear'd, 

Than Philip Nye's thanksgiving beard ; 

Preposterously t' entice, and gain 

Those to adore 'em they disdain ; 

And only draw 'em in, to clog, 

With idle names, a catalogue. 

" A lover is, the more he 's brave, 
T* his mistress but the more a slave ; 



HUDIBRAS. 193 

And whatsoever she commands, 
Becomes a favour from her hands ; 
Which he *s obliged t' obey, and must, 
Whether it be unjust or just. 
Then when he is compelled by her 
T" adventures he would else forbear, 
Who, with his honour, can withstand, 
Since force is greater than command ? 
And when necessity 's obey'd, 
Nothing can be unjust or bad : 
And therefore when the mighty pow'rs 
Of Love, our great ally, and yours, 
JouVd forces not to be withstood 
By frail enamour'd flesh and blood ; 
All I have done, unjust or ill, 
Was in obedience to your will : 
And all the blame that can be due, 
Falls to your cruelty and you." 

This is proceeded with, and the argument next pro- 
duced is, that the superiority of the male sex gives them 
the power and the right to choose, while the weaker 
have " no charter to refuse." But he then relapses into 
tenderness, and thus concludes : — 

" Forgive me, fair, and only blame 
Th' extravagancy of my flame, 
Since 't is too much, at once to show 
Excess of love and temper too ; 
All I have said that 's bad and true, 
Was never meant to aim at you, 
Who have so sov'reign a control 
(.O'er that poor slave of your's, my soul : 

TuatT-ratbex-Jlian -toJb*foit^ou r - - _— 

Has ventur'd loss of heav'u too. 
Both with an equal pow'r possest, 
To render all that serve you blest ; 
But none like him, who 's destin'd either 
To have or lose you both together. 
And if you '11 but this fault release 
For so it must be, since you please, 
I '11 pay down all that vow, and more, 
Which you commanded, and I swore, 



194 HUDIBRAS. 

And expiate upon my skin 
Th' arrears in full of all my sin : 
For 't is but just, that I should pay 
The accruing penance for delay ; 
Which shall be done, until it move 
Your equal pity and your love/' 

The knight, perusing this epistle, 
Believ'd he 'd brought her to his whistle ; 
And read it, like a jocund lover, 
With great applause t* himself twice over. 
Subscrib'd his name, but at a fit 
And humble distance to his wit : 
And dated it with wondrous art — 
" Giv'n from the bottom of my heart ; M 
Then seal'd it with his coat of love, 
A smoking faggot ; and above — 
Upon a scroll — " I burn and weep/' 
And near it — " For her Ladyship ; 
Of all her sex most excellent, 
These to her gentle hands present." 
Then gave it to his faithful squire. 
With lessons how t' observe and eye her. 

The lady receives the letter, but has doubts whether 
to send it back or burn it; however, considering it 
might furnish sport, she reads it " with many a smile 
and leering flout," as is shown in our engraving opposite ; 
and answers it in this spirit of mirth, ridiculing alike his 
adventures, his pretensions, his doctrines, and the style 
of his epistle : 

Y " That you 're a beast, and turn'd to grass, 

'/* Is no strange news, nor ever was ; 

At least to me, who once, you know, 

Did from the pound replevin you, 

When both your sword and spurs were won 

In combat, by an Amazon ; 

That sword that did, like Fate, determine 

Th* inevitable death of vermin, 

And never dealt its furious blows, 

But cut the throats of pigs and cows ; 

By Trulla was, in single fight, 

Disarm'd, and wrested from its knight ; 



HUDIBRAS. 



195 




196 HUDIBRAS. 

Your heels degraded of your spurs, 
And in the stocks close prisoners : 
Where still tb/ had lain, in base restraint, 
If I, in pity of your complaint, 
Had not, on hon'rable conditions, 
Releas'd 'em from the worst of prisons ; 
And what return that favour met, 
You cannot, though you would, forget ; 
When being free, you strove t' evade 
The oaths you had in prison made ; 
Forswore yourself, and first deny'd it, 
But after own'd, and justified it; 
And when y' had falsely broke one vow, 
Absolv'd yourself, by breaking two. 
For while you sneakingly submit, 
And beg for pardon at our feet, 
Discourag'd by your guilty fears, 
To hope for quarter for your ears ; 
And doubting 't was in vain to sue, 
You claim us boldly as your due ; 
Declare that treachery and force 
To deal with us, is th' only course ; 
We have no title nor pretence 
To body, soul, or conscience ; 
But ought to fall to that man's share, 
That claims us for his proper ware." 

Her description of worldly love and mercenary mar- 
riage has so much of truth and solid good sense, clad in 
so humorous a garb, that we must give nearly the whole 
of it :— 

" 'T is not those paltry counterfeit 
French stones, which in our eyes you set, 
But our right diamonds, that inspire 
And set your am'rous hearts on fire ; 
Nor can those false St. Martin's beads, 
W T hich on our lips you lay for reds, 
And make us wear, like Indian dames, 
Add fuel to your scorching flames ; 
But those true rubies of the rock, 
Which in our cabinets we lock. 
*T is not those orient pearls, our teeth, 
That you are so transported with ; 



HTJDIBRAS. 197 

But those we wear about our necks, 
Produce those amorous effects. 
Nor is 't those threads of gold, our hair, 
The periwigs you make us wear ; 
But those bright guineas in our chests, 
That light the wild-fire in your breasts. 
These love-tricks I've been versed in so, 
That all their sly intrigues I know, 
And can unriddle, by their tones, 
Tiieir mystic cabals, and jargons : 
Can tell vrhat passions, by their sounds, 
Pine for the beauties of my grounds ; 
What raptures fond and amorous 
O' th' charms and graces of my house ; 
What eostacy, and scorching flame, 
Burns for my mu^ij in my name ; 
W T hat from th 1 unnatural desire 
To beasts and cattle takes its fire ; 
What tender sigh and trickling tear 
Longs for a thousand pounds a year ; 
And languishing transports are fond 
Of statute, mortgage, bill, and bond. 

u These are th 1 attracts which most men fall 
Enamour'd, at first sight, withal : 
To these th' address with serenades, 
And court with balls and masquerades; 
And yet, for all the yearning pain 
Y' have suffered for their loves in vain, 
I fear they'll prove so nice and coy, 
To have, and t' hold, and to enjoy ; 
That all your oaths and labour lost, 
They '11 ne'er turn ladies of the post. 
This is not meant to disapprove 
Your judgment, in your choice of love, 
Which is so wise, the greatest part 
Of mankind study 't as an art ; 
For love should, like a deodand, 
Still fall to th' owner of the land ; 
And where there 's substance for its ground, 
Cannot but be more firm and sound 
Than that which has the slighter basis 
Of airy virtue, wit, and graces ; 
Which is of such thin subtlety, 
It steals and creeps in at the eye ; 

K 



And, as it can'i 
Steals out agair 
" But love, tl 
From solid gold 
Must, like its sh> 
As solid, and as glorious love. 
Hence 't is you have no way t' express 
Our charms and graces, but by these ; 
For what are lips, and eyes, and teeth. 
Which beauty invades and co^- 
But rubies, pearls- and c 
Withw^- 1 



Q .ave 
_xi. rney have ; 
n tue settlement's in force, 
idKe all the rest for better or worse; 
For money has a power above 
The stars, and Fate, to manage Love, 
Whose arrows, learned poets hold, 
That never miss, are tipp'd with gold, 
And tho', some say, the parents' claims 
To make love in their children's names ; 
(Who, many times, at once provide 
The nurse, the husband, and the bride, 
Feel darts and charms, attracts and flames, 
And woo and contract in their names, 
And as they christen, use to marry 'em, 
And, like their gossips, answer for 'em) 
Is not to give in matrimony, 
But sell and prostitute for money : 
'T is better than their own betrothing, 
Who often do 't for worse than nothing ; 
And when th' are at their own dispose, 
W r ith greater disadvantage choose." 

She also refutes his assertion of mankind being imposed 
upon or ill-used by woman, and alleges that, on the 
contrary, men deceive themselves, or spoil the objects 
of their fancy by their ridiculous flatteries and protes- 
tations. 



I 



HUDIBRAS. 199 

" And if you are impos'd upon, 
'T is by your own temptation done : 
That with your ignorance invite, 
And teach us how to use the sleight. 
For when we find y' are still more taken 
With false attracts of your own making, 
Swear that's a rose, and that 's a stone, 
Like sots, to us that laid it on ; 
And what we did but slightly prime, 
Most ignorantly daub in rhyme ; 
You force us, in our own defences, 
To copy beams and influences ; 
To lay perfections on the graces, 
To draw attracts upon our faces ; 
And, in compliance to your wit, 
Your own false jewels counterfeit : 
For, by the practice of those arts, 
We gain a greater share of hearts ; 
And those deserve in reason most, 
That greatest pains and study cost ; 
For great perfections are, like heav'n, 
Too rich a present to be giv'n : 
Nor are those master-strokes of beauty 
To be perform'd without hard duty ; 
Which, when they're nobly done, and well, 
The simple natural excel. 
How fair and sweet the planted rose, 
Beyond the wild in hedges, grows ? 
For, without art, the noblest seeds 
Of flowers degenerate into weeds : 
How dull and rugged, ere 't is ground 
And polish'd, looks a diamond? 
Tho' Paradise were e'er so fair, 
It was not kept so without care. 
The whole world, without art and dress, 
Would be but one great wilderness ; 
And mankind but a savage herd, 
For all that Nature has conferr'd : 
This does but rough-hew and design, 
Leaves Art to polish and refine. 
Tho* women first were made for men, 
Yet men were made for them again : 
For when, outwitted by his wife, 
Man first turn'd tenant but for life, 

k2 



200 HUDIBRAS. 

If woman had not interven'd, 
How soon had mankind had an end ! 
And that it is in being yet, 
To us alone you are in debt. 1 ' 

It is unnecessary to point out the poetical beauties of 
this passage. Such are too rare to pass unnoticed ; but 
they tend to prove that it was rather from choice than 
necessity the author was so sparing in adorning his 
poems with such ornaments. The lady next proceeds 
to deny his pretended supremacy, contending that the 
supremacy lies with the female sex, saying — 

" And if we had not weighty cause 
To not appear in making laws, 
We could, in spite of all your tricks, 
And shallow, formal politics, 
Force you our managements t' obey, 
As we to yours, in show, give way. 
Hence 't is that, while you vainly strive 
T' advance your high prerogative, 
You basely, after all your braves, 
Submit, and own yourselves our slaves ; 
And, 'cause we do not make it known, 
Nor publicly our interests own, 
Like sots, suppose we have no shares 
In ordering you and your affairs, 
When all your empire and command 
You have from us, at second-hand : 
As if a pilot, that appears 
To sit still only, while he steers, 
And does not make a noise and stir, 
• Like every common mariner, 
Knew nothing of the card nor star, 
And did not guide the man-of-war; 
Nor we, because we don't appear 
In councils, do not govern there : 
While, like the mighty Prester John, 
Whose person none dares look upon, 
But is preserv'd in close disguise 
From being made cheap to vulgar eyes, 
W' enjoy as large a pow'r unseen, 
To govern him, as he does men ; 



HUDIBRAS. 201 

And, in the right of our Pope Joan, 
Make emp'rors at our feet fall down ; 
Or Joan de Pucelle's braver name, 
Our right to arms and conduct claim ; 
Who, tho" a spinster, yet was able 
To serve France for a Grand Constable. 

" We make and execute all laws, 
Can judge the judges, and the cause ; 
Prescribe all rules of right or wrong, 
To th' long robe, and the longer tongue, 
'Gainst which the world has no defence, 
But our more pow'rful eloquence. 
We manage things of greatest weight 
In all the world's affairs of state, 
Are ministers of war and peace, 
That sway all nations how we please. 
We rule all churches and their flocks, 
Heretical and orthodox, 
And are the heavenly vehicles 
O 1 th* spirits in all conventicles : 
By us is all commerce and trade 
Improv'd, and manag'd, and decay'd : 
For nothing can go off so well, 
Nor bears that price, as what we sell. 
We rule in ev'ry public meeting, 
And make men do what we judge fitting ; 
Are magistrates in all great towns, 
Where men do nothing but wear gowns. 
We make the man of war strike sail, 
And to our braver conduct veil ; 
And, when h' has chased his enemies, 
Submit to us upon his knees. 
Is there an officer of state 
Untimely rais'd, or magistrate 
That 's haughty and imperious ? 
He 's but a journeyman to us, 
That, as he gives us cause to do % 
Can keep him in, or turn him out." 

But concludes that they 

" Let men usurp th' unjust dominion, 
As if they were the better women/' 

And thus ends, without finishing, the poem of 
1 Hudibras.' 



202 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 



The character of Butler's poetry cannot be fully com- 
prehended without a notice of his smaller and miscel- 
laneous productions. A very few of these were pub- 
lished by him in his lifetime, though, as we have already 
stated, many things were attributed to him, and issued 
as his, with which he had no connection whatever. His 
papers were left to Mr. Longueville, and his ' Genuine 
Remains ' were first published from them by Mr. Thyer, 
in 1759, in two 8vo. volumes. All are marked with the 
same exuberance of wit, the same tendency to satire, 
and the same unflinching contempt and indignation 
against what appeared to him pretence and assumption ; 
and they afford strong collateral evidence in support of 
the opinion already given as to the generality of the 
satire in his ' Hudibras,' by showing that when he 
thought it right to attack individuals, he did not involve 
his meaning in any obscurity, but boldly used the name, 
or applied such strong characteristic traits, that there is 
no mistaking the person intended. He had evidently 
taken considerable pains with these pieces : some had 
been carefully copied more than once ; many, as the 
editor's preface states, were "finished with the utmost 
accuracy, and w T ere fairly transcribed for the press ;" 
others were incomplete, or apparently wanted final 
revision ; and many were mere fragments too imperfect 
to be included in the collection. On a first view it 
would appear that verse such as that in which ' Hudibras ' 
is composed might have been written with great facility, 
though it manifestly involved a prodigious quantity of 
previous reading and study ; but, if he is to be believed, 
it was not so. In a satire evidently directed against Sir 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 203 

Robert Howard, the opponent of Dryden in his critical 
opinions on the drama, he says — 

I, whom a lewd caprich (for some great crime 

I have committed) has condemned to rhyme, 

With slavish obstinacy vex my brains 

To reconcile 'em [verse and sense], but, alas, in vain : 

Sometimes I set my wit upon the rack, 

And when I would say white, the verse says black. 

And farther on — 

But if my Muse, or I, were so discreet 
T' endure, for rhyme's sake, one dull epithet, 
I might, like others, easily command 
Words without study, ready and at hand. 

But in the choice of words my scruplous wit 

Is fearful to pass one that is unfit ; 

Nor can endure to fill up one void place, 

At a line's end, with one insipid phrase. 

And therefore when I 've scribbled, twenty times 

When I have written four, I blot two rhymes ; 

and adds that 

the devil tempted me, in spite 
Of my own happiness, to judge, and write ; 
Shut up against my will, I waste my age 
In mending this, and blotting t'other page. 

It is also noticeable that, throughout these poems, how- 
ever scarce may be the poetical images in the ' Hudibras,' 
they are far more rare in these. 

W T hy these poems did not see the light during the 
author's life, there are no means of ascertaining. Mr. 
Thyer conjectures of one, and if true of one, the con- 
jecture might be applied to nearly all, that it was on 
account of the personalities. It is not improbable 
Butler lived in intimacy with distinguished men of both 
parties ; and though he might laugh at their follies, and 
in his closet ridicule their inconsistencies, he might not 
have felt himself called upon to inflict pain upon them 
by any idea that the exposure would be productive of 



204 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

benefit to the world, as was evidently his belief in his 
larger and more celebrated poem. 

The collection, as published by Mr. Thyer, is with- 
out any attempt at order or classification, nor shall we, 
in noticing them, adopt that which has been attempted 
in subsequent editions, but merely go through the 
volumes, giving notices of the more remarkable, with 
such extracts as may afford the best ideas of the poems 
themselves, or of the author's powers. 

The first piece is a lively satire on the proceedings of 
the Royal Society, entitled ' The Elephant in the 
Moon/ and contains some pleasant ridicule of the 
theories of Bishop Wilkins and others as to the inha- 
bitants of that planet, the possibility of reaching it, and 
their habitations, size, and other peculiarities. A mouse 
is supposed to have got into the tube of the telescope, 
which, magnified by the eye-glass, leads the members to 
speculate on the monstrous appearance presented to 
them. But, as in his other poems, the subject is often 
left for more general reflections, long or short, as may 
suit the poet's purpose. Such are the following lines on 
the nature of truth, which are more generally appli- 
cable than the ridicule directed against experimental 
philosophy, although, as in the early days of the Royal 
Society, it may have been sometimes misdirected. 

For truth is too reserv'd, and nice, 

T* appear in mix'd societies ; 

Delights in solit'ry abodes, 

And never shows herself in crowds : 

A sullen little thing, below 

All matters of pretence and show, 

That deal in novelty, and change, 

Not of things true, but rare and strange, 

To treat the world with what is fit, 

And proper to its nat'ral wit ; 

The world that never sets esteem 

On what things are, but. what they seem ; 

And if they be not strange and new, 

They 're ne'er the better for being true. 

For what has mankind gain'd by knowing 

His little truth, but his undoing, ' 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 205 

Which wisely was by Nature hidden, 
And only for his good forbidden % 
And therefore, with great prudence, does 
The world still strive to keep it close : 
For if all secret truths were known, 
Who would not be at once undone ? 

Butler subsequently re-wrote the poem, with a few 
alterations, in heroic rhyme ; and in order to afford an 
idea of the facility of his versification, we give the cor- 
responding passage in the longer measure. 

For truth is always tooreserv'd and chaste 

T' endure to be by all the town embrac'd ; 

A solitary anchorite, that dwells 

Retir'd from all the world, in obscure cells; 

Disdains all great assemblies, and defies 

The press and crowd of mix'd societies, 

That use to deal in novelty and change, 

Not of things true, but great, and rare, and strange, 

To entertain the world with what is fit 

And proper for its genius and its wit. 

The world that 's never found to set esteem 

On what things are, but what th' appear and seem ; 

And if they are not wonderful and new, 

They 're ne'er the better for their being true. 

For what is truth, or knowledge, but a kind 

Of wantonness and luxury o' th' mind, 

A greediness and gluttony o' the brain 

That longs to eat forbidden fruit again ; 

And grows more desp'rate, like the worst diseases, 

Upon the nobler part (the mind) it seizes ? 

And what has mankind ever gain'd by knowing 

His little truths, unless his own undoing ; 

That prudently by Nature had been hidden, 

And, only for his greater good, forbidden ? 

And therefore, with as great discretion, does 

The world endeavour still to keep it close ; 

For if the secrets of all truths were known, 

Who would not, once more, be as much undone? 

The next poem is a ' Satire upon the Weakness and 
Misery of Man,' and is of a more serious turn than most 
of the author's productions. His endeavour is to show 

k3 



206 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

the nothingness, the mere vanity, of most of the objects 
that are called pains and pleasures. He says — 

Our noblest piles and stateliest rooms 
Are but outhouses to our tombs ; 
Cities, though e'er so great and brave, 
But mere warehouses to the grave. 

And again, of wealth, he says — 

For what does vast wealth bring, but cheat, 
Law, luxury, disease, and debt : 
Pain, pleasure, discontent, and sport, 
An easy-troubled life — and short ? 

Concluding with the following powerful description of 
the mental inquietudes to which man subjects himself. 

But all these plagues are nothing near 
Those, far more cruel and severe, 
Unhappy man takes pains to find, 
T' inflict himself upon his mind ; 
And out of his own bowels spins 
A rack and torture for his sins ; 
Torments himself, in vain, to know 
That most which he can never do ; 
And the more strictly 't is denied, 
The more he is unsatisfied ; 
Is busy in finding scruples out, 
To languish in eternal doubt ; 
See spectres in the dark, and ghosts, 
And starts, as horses do at posts, 
And, when his eyes assist him least, 
Discerns such subtle objects best. 
On hypothetics, dreams, and visions, 
Grounds everlasting disquisitions, 
And raises endless controversies 
On vulgar theorems and hearsays ; 
Grows positive and confident 
In things so far beyond th' extent 
Of human sense, he does not know 
Whether they be at all or no ; 
And doubts as much in things that are 
As plainly evident and clear ; 
Disdains all useful sense, and plain, 
T' apply to th' intricate and vain ; 



;l 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 207 

And cracks his brain in plodding on 

That which is never to be known ; 

To free himself with subtleties, 

And hold no other knowledge wise ; 

Altho' the subtler all things are, 

They 're but to nothing the more near ; 

And the less weight they can sustain, 

The more he still lays on in vain ; 

And hangs his soul upon as nice 

And subtle curiosities, 

As one of that vast multitude 

That on a needle's point have stood ; 

Weighs right and wrong, and true and false, 

Upon as nice and subtle scales 

As those that turn upon a plane 

With th' hundredth part of half a grain ; 

And still the subtler they move, 

The sooner false and useless prove. 

So man, that thinks to force and strain, 

Beyond its natural sphere, his brain, 

In vain torments it on the rack, 

And, for improving, sets it back ; 

Is ignorant of his own extent, 

And that to which his aims are bent ; 

Is lost in both, and breaks his blade 

Upon the anvil where 't was made : 

For as abortions cost more pain 

Than vig'rous births, so all the vain 

And weak productions of man's wit, 

That aim at purposes unfit, 

Require more drudgery, and worse, 

Than those of strong and lively force. 

The succeeding piece is another instance of the poet's 
clearsightedness and impartiality as to the faults of his 
own party. It is a ' Satire on the Licentious Age of 
Charles the Second/ and is a bitter and indignant, 
though somewhat coarse, attack on the wretched taste 
which led men to affect vice as a fashionable distinction, 
in order to contrast themselves with the formal manners 
of the commonwealth : — 

So men, who one extravagance would shun, 
Into the contrary extreme would run j 



208 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

And all the difference is, that, as the first 
Provokes the other freak to prove the worst ; 
So, in return, that strives to render less 
The last delusion with its own excess ; 
And, like two unskilled gamesters, are one way, 
With bungling, t' help out one another's play ; 
For those, who heretofore sought private holes, 
Securely in the dark to damn their souls, 
Wore vizards of hypocrisy, to steal 
And slink away, in masquerade, to hell, 
Now bring their crimes into the open sun 
For all mankind to gaze their worst upon. 

For men have now made vice so great an art, 
That matter of fact become the slightest part ; 
And the debauched'st actions they can do, 
Mere trifles, to the circumstance and show ; 
For 't is not what they do that 's now the sin, 
But what they lewdly affect, and glory in ; 
As if preposterously they would profess 
A forc'd hypocrisy of wickedness; 
And affectation, that makes good things bad, 
Must make the affected shame accurst and mad ; 
For vices for themselves may find excuse, 
But never for their compliment and shews. 

The truth and vigour of the portraiture will, we think, 
be admitted by all, and few but will pardon the strength 
of expressions forced out by the virtuous wrath of the 
writer. 

The ' Satire upon Gaming,' which follows, is in a 
lighter strain, combining great good sense and sound 
reasoning with fluent verse and lively wit. A short ex- 
tract will suffice to show the nature of the poem : — 

For what but miracles can serve 

So great a madness to preserve. 

As his, that ventures goods and chattels 

(Where there 's no quarter giv'n) in battles, 

And tights with money bags as bold 

As men with sandbags did of old ? 

Puts lands, and tenements, and stocks, 

Into a paltry juggler's box; 






MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 209 

And like an alderman of Gotham, 
Embarketh in so vile a bottom ; 
Engages blind and senseless hap 
'Gainst high, and low, and slur, and knap 
(As Tartars with a man of straw 
Encounter lions hand to paw), 
With those that never venture more 
Than th'y had safely ensur'd before; 
Who, when they knock the box and shake, 
Do, like the Indian rattlesnake, 
But strive to ruin and destroy 
Those that mistake it for fair play ; 
That have their fulhams at command, 
Brought up to do their feats at hand ; 
That understands their calls and knocks, 
And how to place themselves i' the' box ; 
Can tell the oddses of all games, 
And when to answer to their names ; 
And when he conjures them t 1 appear, 
Like imps, are ready everywhere ; 
When to play foul, and when run fair 
(Out of design) upon the square; 
And let the greedy cully win, 
Only to draw him further in ; 
While those with which he idly plays, 
Have no regard to what he says ; 
Altho' he jernie, and blaspheme, 
When they miscarry, heav'n and them, 
And damn his soul, and swear and curse, 
And crucify his Saviour worse 
Than those Jew-troopers that threw out 
When they were raffling for his coat ; 
Denounce revenge, as if they heard, 
And rightly understood, and fear'd ; 
And would take heed another time 
How to commit so bold a crime ; 
When the poor bones are innocent 
Of all he did, or said, or meant ; 
And have as little sense, almost, 
As he that damns them when h' has lost. 

From a ' Satirical Epistle to a Bad Poet,* by whom 
no doubt is intended Sir Richard Howard, we have 
already taken a few lines illustrative of Butler's own 



210 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

character as a poet. It is sufficiently bitter, but affords 
nothing further to call for a more detailed notice. The 
next poem is entitled ' Repartees between Cat and Puss 
at a Catterwauling, in the Modern Heroic Way/ and is 
a ridicule of the love scenes of the dramas of Dryden, 
Howard, and others of that class. It has wit and truth ; 
but a short specimen will suffice : — 

Puss. — At once I m happy, and unhappy too, 

In being pleas'd, and in displeasing you. 
Cat. — Prepost'rous way of pleasure, and of love, 

That contrary to its own end would move ! 

'T is rather hate that covets to destroy ; 

Love's business is to love and to enjoy. 
Puss. — Enjoying and destroying are all one, 

As flames destroy that which they feed upon. 

The next piece is partly on the same subject. A 
; Satire on our Ridiculous Imitations of the French,' and 
is as applicable to the present day as to his own. We 
quote the beginning : — 

Who would not rather get him gone 

Beyond th' intolerablest zone, 

Or steer his passage thro' those seas 

That burn in flames, or those that freeze, 

Than see one nation go to school, 

And learn of another like a fool? 

To study all its tricks and fashions, 

With epidemic affectations, 

And dare to wear no mode of dress 

Bnt what they in their wisdom please ; 

As monkeys are, by being taught 

To put on gloves and stockings, caught ; 

Submit to all that they devise, 

As if it wore their liveries ; 

Make ready and dress th' imagination, 

Not with the clothes, but with the fashion ; 

And change it, to fulfil the curse 

Of Adam's fall, for new, tho' worse, 

To make their breeches fall and rise 

From middle legs to middle thighs; 

The tropics between which the hose 

Move always as the fashion goes ; 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 211 

Sometimes wear hats like pyramids, 
And sometimes flat, like pipkins' lids ; 
With broad brims, sometimes, like umbrellas, 
And sometimes narrow as Punchinello's ; 
In coldest weather go unbrac'd, 
And close in hot, as if th* were lac'd ; 
Sometimes with sleeves and bodies wide, 
And sometimes straiter than a hide ; 
Wear peruques, and with false grey hairs 
Disguise the true ones, and their years; 
That, when they 're modish with the young, 
The old may seem so in the throng ; 
And as some pupils have been known, 
In time to put their tutors down, 
So ours are often found to 've got 
More tricks than ever they were taught. 

The i Epistle to the Hon. Edward Howard, Esq., 
upon his incomparable Poem of the British Princes,' 
appeared during the author's lifetime, in Dryden's i Mis- 
cellanies,' under the name of Mr, Waller, and was in- 
cluded by Mr. Fenton in his edition of Waller's poems, 
published in 1730. There is small doubt, however, 
from the style, as well as from its being found among 
Butler's MSS., together with the 'Palinodie' upon the 
same poem, that Butler was the real author. The 
1 British Princes ' is probably unknown to the great 
majority of our readers, and has no merit likely to occa- 
sion its resuscitation, though it was the subject of much 
clever ridicule among the wits of the time, from Butler 
to Tom Brown. W T e can only give room for the end of 
Butler's poem : — 

Such magic pow'r has your prodigious pen 

To raise the dead, and give new life to men ; 

Make rival princes meet in arms and love, 

Whom distant ages did so far remove ; 

For as eternity has neither past 

Nor future (authors say), nor Hist nor last, 

But is all instant, your eternal muse 

All ages can to any one reduce. 

Then why should you, whose miracle of art 

Can life at pleasure to the dead impart, 



212 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Trouble in vain your better-busied head 

T 1 observe what time they liv'd in or were dead ? 

For since you have such arbitrary power, 

It were defect in judgment to go lower ; 

Or stoop to things so pitifully lewd, 

As use to take the vulgar latitude; 

There 's no man fit to read what you have writ, 

That holds not. some proportion with your wit ; 

As light can no way but by light appear, 

He must bring sense that understands it here. 

From the * Palinodie ' on the same subject, we also 
give the end. 

Boys find b' experiment, no paper kite, 
Without your verse, can make a noble flight : 
It keeps our spice and aromatics sweet ; 
In Paris they perfume their rooms with it : 
For burning but one leaf of yours (they say), 
Drives all their stinks and nastiness away. 
Cooks keep their pies from burning with your wit, 
Their pigs and geese from scorching on the spit ; 
And vintners find their wines are ne'er the worse, 
When ars'nic 's only wrapp'd up in the verse. 
These are the great performances that raise 
Your mighty parts above all reach of praise, 
And give us only leave t' admire your worth, 
For no man but yourself can set it forth ; 
Whose wond'rous pow'r 's so generally known, 
Fame is the echo, and her voice your own. 

The ' Satire on Drunkenness,' which succeeds, is an 
earnest and forcible description of the evils of that 
vice, concluding with a witty, and, we trust, not irreve- 
rent allusion to the scriptural account of the earliest 
introduction of wine. 

So Noah, when he anchoi'd safe on 

The mountain's top, his lofty haven, 

And all the passengers he bore 

Were on the new world set ashore, 

He made it next his chief design, 

To plant, and propagate a vine, 

Which since lias overwhelm'd and drown'd 

Far greater numbers, on dry ground, 






MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 213 

Of wretched mankind, one by one, 
Than all the flood before had done. 

The 6 Satire upon Marriage ' contains nothing equal to 
what we have already had on the same subject in his 
4 Hudibras ;' but in his Pindaric ode ' Upon an Hypo- 
critical Nonconformist ' his wit is as sparkling and severe 
as in the best parts of his great poem. We give a single 
stanza as a specimen of his facility in this species of 
verse, as well as of the nature of the poem. We hardly 
need to add that the true model of the ode is not Pindar, 
but Mr. Cowley. 

The subtle spider never spins, 
But on dark days, his slimy gins ; 

Nor does our engineer much care to plant 
His spiritual machines, 

Unless among the weak and ignorant, 

Th/ inconstant, credulous, and light, 

The vain, the factious, and the slight, 
That in their zeal are most extravagant ; 
For trouts are tickled best in muddy water ; 
And still the muddier he finds their brains, 

The more he 's sought, and follow'd after, 

And greater ministrations gains ; 

For talking idly is admir'd, 

And speaking nonsense held inspired ; 

And still the flatter and more dull 
His gifts appear, is held more pow'rful ; 

For blocks are better cleft with wedges, 

Than tools of sharp and subtle edges ; 

And dullest nonsense has been found, 
By some, to be the solid'st and the most profound. 

1 Upon Modern Critics ' is also a Pindaric ode, and 
the race he then described is not yet extinct. We may 
believe that a greater extent of knowledge, and a more 
genial feeling pervades the minds of the higher order of 
critics of the present day, as well as of some of his own, 
but it is not of such he speaks. Then, as now, 

daring nonsense seldom fails to hit 
Like scatter'd shot, and pass with some for wit. 



214 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

And he asks, 

Who would not rather make himself a judge, 
And boldly to usurp the chair, 
Than with dull industry and care 
Endure to study, think, and drudge 
For that which he much sooner may advance 

With obstinate and pertinacious ignorance ? 

For all men challenge, though in spite 
Of Nature and their stars, a right 
To censure, judge, and know ; 
Though she can only order who 
Shall be, and who shall ne'er be, wise ; 
Then why should those, whom she denies 
Her favour and good graces to, 
Not strive to take opinion by surprise, 
And ravish what it were in vain to woo ? 
For he that desp'rately so assumes 
The censure of all wit and arts, 
Though without judgment, skill, and parts, 
Only to startle and amuse, 
And mark his ignorance (as Indians use 
With gaudy-coloured plumes 
Their homely nether parts t' adorn) 
Can never fail to captive some 
That will submit to his oraculous doom, 

And reverence what they ought to scorn : 
Admire his sturdy confidence, 
For solid judgment and deep sense; 
And credit, purchased without pains or wit, 
Like stolen pleasures, ought to be most sweet. 

Of such critics, he adds — 

But when all other courses fail, 

There is one easy artifice 

That seldom has been known to miss ? 

To cry all mankind down, and rail ; 

For he whom all men do contemn 
May be allowed to rail again at them, 
And in his own defence 

To outface reason, wit, and sense, 
And all that makes against himself condemn : 






MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 215 

To snarl at all things right or wrong, 
Like a mad dog that has a worm in 's tongue, 
Reduce all knowledge back, of good and evil, 

T' its first original, the devil ; 
And, like a fierce inquisitor of wit, 
To spare no flesh that ever spoke or writ ; 

Though to perform his task as dull 
As if he had a toad-stone in his skull, 

And could produce a greater stock 
Of maggots, than a pastoral poet's flock. 

The next Pindaric ode, ( To the happy Memory of the 
renowned Du Val, 5 was the only genuine piece published 
in what was called his ' Remains/ which we have al- 
ready noticed. Du Val was a highwayman, celebrated 
for his courage and gallantry to the ladies whom in his 
professional avocation he had business with, and who, 
upon his imprisonment and condemnation to the gallows, 
was visited and sympathized with by many of the sex, 
who were captivated by the generosity of his conduct 
and the accomplishments of his person, though displayed 
in so unpropitious a course. 

Thither came ladies from all parts, 
To offer up close prisoners their hearts ; 

Which he receiv'd as tribute due, 
And made them yield up love and honour too ; 

But in more brave, heroic ways, 

Than e'er were practis'd yet in plays. 

We trust this was not literally true, though the crowds 
that visited the cell of this condemned malefactor is 
an historical fact. Perhaps the passage most interesting 
at the present time is the satire on the importations of 
fashions from France, which, together with these, had 
sent us Du Val himself. 

In France, the staple of new modes, 
Where garbs and miens are current goods, 
That serves the ruder northern nations 
With methods of address and treat ; 
Prescribes new garnitures and fashions, 
And how to drink and how to eat 
No out-of-fashion, wine, or meat. 



21G MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

To understand cravats and plumes, 
And the most modish from the old perfumes ; 
To know the age and pedigrees 

Of points of Flanders or Venice ; 
Cast their nativities, and to a day 
Foretel how long they'll hold, and when decay ; 

To affect the purest negligences 

In gestures, gaits, and miens, 

And speak by repartee-rotines 
Out of the most authentic of romances, 
And to demonstrate, with substantial reason, 
What ribands, all the year, are in or out of season. 






The next piece, ' A Panegyric upon Sir John Den- 
ham's Recovery from his Madness/ is the most objec- 
tionable of any of his poems ; for however lowly he 
might estimate Denham's talents as a poet, there seems 
to be an excessive cruelty in making such a calamity the 
subject of ridicule, whatever might be the provocation, 
though we do not know there was any, he had received. 
Nor do the assertions that Cooper's Hill was bought, 
and the Sofa borrowed, appear to be founded in fact, 
though it may be urged in his excuse, that the opinion 
was at the time held by others. The irony is, however, 
smart and cutting, as will be seen from the following 
extract. Denham was surveyor to the king, having ob- 
tained the reversion of the place, after Inigo Jones, from 
Charles I., and entered upon it at the Restoration, in 
which he is said to have made a good deal of money ; 
it is to this that Butler alludes towards the end of the 
quotation : — 

Sir, you 've outliv'd so desperate a fit 
As none could do but an immortal wit ; 
Had yours been less, all helps had been in vain, 
And thrown away, tho' on a less sick brain, 
But you were so far from receiving hurt, 
You grew improv'd, and much the better for 't. 
As when th' Arabian bird does sacrifice, 
And burn himself in'his own country's spice ; 
A maggot first breeds in his pregnant urn, 
Which, after, does to a young phoenix turn : 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 217 

So your hot brain, burnt in its native fire, 

Did life renew'd, and vig'rous youth, acquire ; 

And with so much advantage, some have guess'd, 

Your after-wit is like to be your best ; 

And now expect far greater matters of ye 

Than the bought Cooper's Hill, or borrow'd Sophy ; 

Such as your Tully lately dress'd in verse, 

Like those he made himself, or not much worse ; 

And Seneca's dry sand unmix'd with lime, 

Such as you cheat the King with, botch'd in rhyme. 

Nor were your morals less improv'd, all pride, 

And native insolence, quite laid aside ; 

And that ungovem'd outrage, that was wont 

All, that you durst with safety, to affront. 

No china cupboard rudely overthrown, 

Nor lady tipp'd, by b'ing accosted, down ; 

No poet jeerd, for scribbling amiss, 

With verses forty times more lewd than his ; 

Nor did your crutch give battle to your Duns, ] 

And hold it out, where you had built a sconce ; 

Nor furiously laid orange-wench aboard, 

For asking what in fruit and love you'd scor'd. 

But all civility and complaisance, 

More than you ever us'd before or since, 

Beside, you never overreach'd the King 

One farthing, all the while, in reckoning, 

Nor brought in false account, with little tricks 

Of passing broken rubbish for whole bricks ; 

False mustering of workmen by the day, 

Deduction out of wages, and dead pay 

For those that never liv'd ; all which did come, 

By thrifty management, to no small sum. 

You pull'd no lodgings down, to build them worse, 

Nor repair'd others, to repair your purse, 

As you were wont, till all you built, appear"d 

Like that Amphion with his fiddle rear'd : 

For had the stones (like his) charm'd by your verse, 

Built up themselves, they could not have done worse : 

And sure, when first you ventur'd to survey, 

You did design to do 't no other way. 

The next poem is of a very different character. 
Rymer and others had published criticisms upon the 
English drama, in which they violently upheld the old 



218 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

classical laws, laid down, as they asserted, by Aristotle. 
On these grounds Rymer in particular had condemned 
the works of Shakspere, and still more some of those of 
Beaumont and Fletcher. Butler enters warmly into their 
defence in his ' Satire upon Critics who judge of Modern 
Plays precisely by the rules of the Ancients ;' and after 
many sarcasms upon some of the peculiar features of the 
Grecian plays, and some of the dogmas of Aristotle, 
he concludes — 

An English poet should be tried b* his peers, 

And not by pedants and philosophers 

Incompetent to judge poetic fury, 

As butchers are forbid to b' of a jury ; 

Besides the most intolerable wrong 

To try their matters in a foreign tongue, 

By foreign jurymen, like Sophocles, 

Or tales falser than Euripides ; 

When not an English native dares appear 

To be a witness for the prisoner ; 

When all the laws they use t' arraign and try 

The innocent and wrong'd delinquent by, 

Were made b' a foreign lawyer, and his pupils, 

To put an end to all poetic scruples ; 

And. by the advice of virtuosi Tuscans, 

Determin'd all the doubts of socks and buskins; 

Gave judgment on all past and future plays, 

As is apparent by Speroni's case, 

Which Lope Vega first began to steal, 

And after him the French filou Corneille ; 

And since our English plagiaries nim, 

And steal their far-fet criticisms from him ; 

And, by an action falsely laid of trover, 

The lumber for their proper goods recover; 

Enough to furnish all the lewd impeachers 

Of witty Beaumont's poetry, and Fletcher's, 

Who for a few misprisions of wit 

Are charg'd by those who ten times worse commit ; 

And, for misjudging some unhappy scenes, 

Are censur'd for "t with more unlucky sense ; 

When all their worst miscarriages delight, 

And please more, than the best that pedants write. 

With regard to some of the allusions in the latter party 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 219 

we may explain, that " the tales, falser than Euripides," 
are the common jurymen called in when there are not 
enough of special jurymen present; that the " foreign 
lawyer" is Aristotle ; the ''virtuosi Tuscans "are the 
commentators on Ariosto ; that Speroni wrote a drama, 
1 La Canace,' which occasioned much controversy ; and 
that Lope da Vega and P. Corneille wrote essays on the 
art of poetry. 

The ' Satire on Plagiaries ' is clever, particularly the 
following ironical defence of them : — 

As none but kings have pow'r to raise 
A levy, which the subject pays ; 
And, tho' they call that tax a loan, 
Yet, when 't is gather'd, 't is their own ; 
So he that 's able to impose 
A wit-excise on verse or prose ; 
And, still the abler authors are, 
Can make them pay the greater share, 
Is prince of poets of his time 
And they bis vassals that supply J m ; 
Can judge more justly of what he takes, 
Than any of the best he makes ; 
And more impartially conceive 
What Is fit to choose, and what to leave. 
For men reflect more strictly upon 
The sense of others, than their own ; 
And wit, that 's made of wit and slight, 
Is richer than the plain downright : 
As salt that 's made of salt 's more fine 
Than when it first came from the brine ; 
And spirit 's of a nobler nature, 
Drawn from the dull ingredient matter. 

The conclusion is also full of his peculiar imagery, 
and is sufficiently pointed and severe : — 

Hence 't is that some, who set up first 
As raw, and wretched, and unvers'd, 
And open'd with a stock as poor 
As a healthy beggar with one sore ; 
That never writ in prose or verse, 
But pick'd, or cut it, like a purse ; 



220 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

And at the best could but commit 
The petty larceny of wit ; 
To whom to write was to purloin, 
And printing but to stamp false coin : 
Yet, after long and sturdy 'ndeavours, 
Of being painful wit-receivers, 
With gathering rags and scraps of wit, 
As paper 's made, on which t is writ, 
Have gone forth authors, and acquir'd, 
The right — or wrong to be admir'd ; 
And, arm'd with confidence, incurrM 
The fool's good luck, to be preferr'd. 
For as a banker can dispose 
Of greater sums, he only owes, 
Than he who honestly is known, ;*' 
To deal in nothing but his own : 
So whosoe'er can take up most, 
May greatest fame and credit boast. 

In the ' Satire upon Philip Nye's Thanksgiving 
Beard,' he gets back to his favourite subject, the pec- 
cadilloes of the Non- Conformists. Philip Nye has been 
mentioned in < Hudibras :' he was an ordained minister of 
the Church of England, but became a Presbyterian, and 
a zealous partisan of the Parliamentary party, by whom 
he was sent into Scotland to promote the union with the 
Covenanters. Ultimately he adopted the Independent 
principles, and was accused of having consulted his 
interest in his change of opinion, as he thereby obtained 
the living of Acton. He also rendered himself re- 
markable by the singularity of his beard, though it must 
be remembered that others, on both sides, did the same. 

This satisfied a rev'rend man, that clear'd 

His disagreeing conscience by his beard. 

H' had been preferr'd i' th' army, when the church 

Was taken with a Why not? in the lurch, 

When primate, metropolitan, and prelates, 

Were turn'd to officers of horse, and zealots, 

From whom he held the most pluralities 

Of contributions, donatives, and sal'ries ; 

Was held the chiefest of those sp'ritual trumpets, 

That sounded charges to their fiercest combats, 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 221 

But in the desperatest of defeats, 
Had never blown as opportune retreats, 
Until the Synod order'd his departure 
To London, from his caterwauling quarter, 
To sit among 'em, as he had been chosen, 
And pass, or 'null things, at his own disposing; 
Could clap up fowls in limbo with a vote, 
And for their fees discharge and let them out, 
Which made some grandees bribe him with the place 
Of holding forth upon thanksgiving days, 
Whither the members, two and two abreast, 
March'd to take in the spoils of all — the feast, 
But by the way repeated the oh-hones 
Of his wild Irish and chromatic tones, 
His frequent and pathetic hums and haws 
He practis'd only t' animate the cause, 
With which the sisters were so prepossess'd, 
They could remember nothing of the rest. 
He thought upon it, and resolv'd to put 
His Beard into as wonderful a cut, 
And for the further service of the women, 
T* abate the rigidness of his opinion ; 
And, but a day before, had been to find 
The ablest virtuoso of the kind, 
With whom he long and seriously conferr'd 
On all intrigues that might concern his beard ; 
By whose advice he sate for a design 
In little drawn, exactly to a line, 
That if the creature chance to have occasion 
To undergo a thorough reformation, 
It might be borne conveniently about, 
And by the meanest artist copied out. 

A Prologue and Epilogue to i The Queen of Aragon,' 
a play acted before the Duke of York on his birthday, 
succeeds, but it contains little beyond a proof of the 
irrepressible nature of Butler's satire, for while the 
Prologue begins by being complimentary, it soon di- 
verges into an attack on the critics. The Epilogue 
contains nothing to notice. 

'T was well for us, who else must have been glad 
T' admit of all, who now write new, and bad ; 
For still the wickeder some authors write, 
Others to write worse are encouiag'd by 't ; 

L 



222 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

And tho' those fierce inquisitors of wit, 
The critics, spare no flesh that ever writ, 
Bat just as tooth-draw'rs find among the rout, 
Their own teeth work in pulling other's out ; 
So they, decrying all of all that write, 
Think to erect a trade of judging by 't. 
Small poetry, like other heresies, 
By being persecuted, multiplies; 
But here they 're like to fail of all pretence, 
For he that writ this play, is dead long since, 
And not within their power ; for bears are said 
To spare those that lie still, and seem but dead. 

Three Ballads follow, which are conjectured to have 
been written upon the project of making Oliver Crom- 
well king, and are supposed to have been the earliest 
productions of Butler's muse, but they contain little of 
the racy wit of his other poems, though there is some 
drollery in the versification. The ' Satire upon the 
Imperfection and Abuse of Human Learning ' succeeds, 
in Two Parts, of which the Second is only a fragment, or 
rather a series of fragments, and is of a much higher cha- 
racter. His subject here is more general ; in it he first 
details the ill effects of early education, and the defects 
arising from the weakness of the human mind, together 
with those arising from its presumption in endeavouring to 
investigate matters beyond its reach. Our extract will 
give a notion of his manner of treating the first division 
of the subject : — 

No sooner are the organs of the brain 

Quick to receive, and stedfast to retain 

Best, knowledges, but all 's laid out upon 

Retrieving of the curse of Babylon ; 

To make confounded languages restore 

A greater drudg'ry than it barr'd before : 

And therefore those imported from the East, 

Where first they were incurr'd, are held the best, 

Altho' convey'd in worse Arabian pothooks 

Than gifted tradesmen scratch in sermon note-books ; 

Are really but pains and labour lost, 

And not worth half the drudgery they cost, 

Unless, like rarities, as they *ve been brought 

From foreign climates, and as dearly bought, 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 223 

When those who had no other but their own, 
Have all succeeding eloquence outdone ; 
As men, that wink with one eye, see more true, 
And take their aim much better than with two : 
For the more languages a man can speak, 
His talent has but sprung the greater leak ; 
And for th' industry he has spent upon 't 
Must full as much some other way discount. 
The Hebrew, Chaldee, and the Syriac, 
Do, like their letters, set men's reason back, 
And turn their wits, that strive to understand it, 
(Like those that write the characters) left handed ; 
Yet he that is but able to express 
No sense at all in several languages, 
Will pass for learueder than he, that 's known 
To speak the strongest reason in his own. 
These are the modern arts of education, 
With all the learned of mankind in fashion ; 
But practis'd only with the rod and whip, 
As riding-schools inculcate horsemanship ; 
Or Romish penitents let out their skins, 
To bear the penalties of other's sins. 
When letters, at the first, were meant for play, 
And only us'd to pass the time away ; 
When th 1 ancient Greeks and Romans had no name 
T* express a school and playhouse but the same • 
And in their languages, so long agone, 
To study or be idle was all one ; 
For nothing more preserves men in their wits 
Than giving of them leave to play by fits, 
In dreams to sport, and ramble with all fancies, 
Arid waking, little less extravagances, 
The rest and recreation of tir'd thought 
When 't is run down with care, and overwrought ; 
Of which whoever does not freely take 
His constant share, is never broad awake; 
And, when he wants an equal competence 
Of both recruits, abates as much of sense. 

The Second Part, as far as it was written, seems to 
have been intended to satirise particular exemplifications 
of the defects by selected examples in the various 
branches of human knowledge, philosophy, pedantry, 

l2 



'2*24 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

criticism, and rhetoric, to which last the following 
extract applies : — 

As old knights-errant in their harness fought 

As safe as in a castle or redoubt ; 

Gave one another desperate attacks, 

To storm the counterscarps upon their backs ; 

To disputants advance, and post their arms, 

To storm the works of one another's terms ; 

Fall foul on some extravagant expression, 

But ne "er attempt the main design and reason — 

So some polemics use to draw their swords 

Against the language only and the words ; 

As he who fought at barriers with Salmasius, 

Engag'd with nothing but his style and phrases, 

Wav'd to assert the murder of a prince, 

The author of false Latin to convince ; 

But laid the merits of the cause aside, 

By those that understood them to be tried ; 

And counted breaking Priscian's head a thing 

More capital, than to behead a king, 

For which \i has been admir'd by all the learn'd 

Of knaves 'concenrd, and pedants unconeern'd.* 

And we add from this Part also a part of his judgment 
upon oratory: — 

Words are but pictures, true or false design'd, 
To draw the lines and features of the mind, 
The characters and artificial draughts 
T' express the inward images of thoughts : 
And artists say a picture may be good, 
Altho' the moral be not understood : 
Whence some infer, they may admire a style, 
Tho' all the rest be e'er so mean and vile ; 
Applaud th' outsides of words, but never mind. 
With what fantastic tawdry th' are lin'd. 

So orators, enchanted with the twang 
Of their own trillos, take delight t* harangue ; 
Whose science, like a juggler's box and balls, 
Conveys and counterchanges true and false ; 
Casts mists before an audience's eyes, 
To pass the one for th* other in disguise ; 

* The allusion here is evidently to Milton. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 225 

And, like a morris-dancer dress'd with bells, 
Only to serve for noise and nothing else, 
Such as a carrier makes his cattle wear ; 
And hangs, for pendants, in a horse's ears : 
For, if the language will but bear the test, 
No matter what becomes of all the rest ; 
The ablest orator, to save a word, 
Would throw all sense and reason overboard. 
Hence 't is that nothing else but eloquence 
Is tied to such a prodigal expense; 
That lays out half the wit and sense it uses 
Upon the other half s as vain excuses : 
For all defences and apologies 
Are but specifics t' other frauds and lies ; 
And th' artificial wash of eloquence 
Is daub'd in vain upon the clearest sense, 
Only to stain the native ingenuity 
Of equal brevity and perspicuity : 
Whilst all the best and sob'rest things he does, 
Are when he coughs, or spits, or blows his nose ; 
Handles no point so evident and clear 
(Besides his white gloves) as his handkercher, 
Unfolds the nicest scruple so distinct, 
As if his talent had been wrapp'd up in 't 
Unthriftily, and now he went about 
Henceforward to improve, and put it out. 

A number of i Miscellaneous Thoughts ' in verse, se- 
lected, it appears, from a still greater number in his com- 
mon-place book, succeed : of these we can do no more than 
lay a few before the reader, to show the care with which 
he prepared his materials, as it is certain they were never 
intended to see the light in their present shape. The 
first we shall give contains a bitter reflection on the con- 
duct of Charles the Second to his friends on his restora- 
tion : — 

All acts of grace, and pardon, and oblivion, 
Are meant of services that are forgiv'n ; 
And not of crimes delinquents have committed, 
And rather been rewarded than acquitted. 

The next contains a reflection doubtlessly occasioned 
by the intemperate zeal he had witnessed on both sides 



226 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

during the civil contest that had raged through the 
country : — 

No scared conscience is so fell 

As that which has been burnt with zeal ; 

For Christian charity 's as well 

A great impediment to zeal, 

As zeal a pestilent disease 

To Christian charity and peace. 

We conclude our selections from his minor poems by 
a very humorously exaggerated description of Hol- 
land : — 

A country that draws fifty foot of water, 

In which men live as in the hold of nature, 

And when the sea does in upon them break, 

And drowns a province, does but spring a leak ; 

That always ply the pump, and never think 

They can be safe, but at the rate they stink ; 

That live, as if they had been run aground ; 

And, when they die, are cast away and drown'd ; 

That dwell in ships, like swarms of rats, and prey 

Upon the goods all nations' fleets convey ; 

And, when their merchants are blown up and crack 'd, 

Whole towns are cast away in storms and wreck t ; 

That feed, like cannibals, on other fishes, 

And serve their cousin-germans up in dishes ; 

A land that rides at anchor, and is moor'd, 

In which they do not live, but go aboard. 



PROSE WORKS. 



Butler's prose works are far less known than his poetry, 
but are of a character sufficiently remarkable to demand 
a notice. They nearly all embody the same qualities 
which distinguish his verse— strong good sense, quaint 
wit, a wonderful power of illustration, a detestation of all 
false pretension, bitter sarcasm, and a clear perception 



PROSE WORKS. 227 

of the real foibles of mankind, under whatever cloak they 
may be shrouded, whether that of the puritan or the 
courtier, the pedant or the visionary philosopher. The 
minor pieces are chiefly parodies on political subjects of 
which the temporary interest has so completely evapo- 
rated, that even his powers could not ensure them vitality ; 
but his ' Characters,' of which he left a volume, are still, 
with the exception of the allusions to contemporary events, 
as applicable now as they were then, and are as remark- 
able as his poetry for the absence of individual satire, 
there being only one, * A Duke of Bucks/ that can be 
at all identified, though no doubt many single strokes 
were levelled at or drawn from living personages. We 
shall select those which afford the strongest proof of his 
impartiality, and having submitted those, shall trust that 
we may have been not altogether unsuccessful in re- 
moving some of the existing prejudices against Butler as 
a writer, and of having conveyed a sufficient idea of the 
character of the writings of a man who, in his line, has 
never been equalled in any other nation, and of whom 
in England all parties may be justly proud. Of the first, 
which is very long, we can only give an abridgment. 

A MODERN POLITICIAN 

Made new discoveries in politics, but they are, like 
those that Columbus made of the new world, very rich 
but barbarous. He endeavours to restore mankind to 
the original condition it fell from, by forgetting to dis- 
cern between good and evil, and reduces all prudence 
back again to its first author the serpent, that taught 
Adam wisdom. 

To propose any measure to wealth or power is to be 
ignorant of the nature of both : for as no man can ever 
fiave too much of either, so it is impossible to determine 
what is enough ; and he that limits his desires by pro- 
posing to himself the enjoyment of any other pleasure 
but that of gaining more, shows he has but a dull in- 
clination that will not hold out to his journey's end. 
And therefore he believes that a courtier deserves to be 



228 PROSE WORKS. 

begged himself, that is ever satisfied with begging : for 
fruition without desire is but a dull entertainment, and 
that pleasure only real and substantial that provokes and 
improves the appetite, and increases in the enjoyment. 
And all the greatest masters in the several arts of 
thriving concur unanimously, that the plain downright 
pleasure of gaining is greater, and deserves to be pre- 
ferred far before all the various delights of spending 
which the curiosity, wit, or luxury of mankind in all 
ages could ever find out. 

He believes there is no way of thriving so easy and 
certain as to grow rich by defrauding the public : for 
public thieveries are more safe and less prosecuted than 
private, like robberies committed between sun and sun, 
which the county pays, and no one is greatly concerned 
in. And as the monster of many heads has less wit in 
them all than any one reasonable person ; so the mon- 
ster of many purses is easier cheated than any one in- 
different crafty fool. For all the difficulty lies in being 
trusted ; and when he has obtained that, the business 
does itself; and if he should happen to be questioned and 
called to an account, a bawdy pardon is as cheap as a 
paymaster's fee, not above fourteen pence in the pound. 

He prefers the way of applying to the vices and hu- 
mours of great persons before all other methods of 
getting into favour ; for he that car* be admitted into 
these offices of privacy and trust, seldom fails to arrive at 
greater, and with greater ease and certainty than those 
who take the dull way of plain fidelity and merit. For 
vices, like beasts, are fond of none but those that feed 
them ; and where they once prevail, all other considera- 
tions go for nothing. They are his own flesh and blood, 
born and bred out of him ; and he has a stronger natural 
affection for them than all other obligations in the world. 
For though they are but his imperfections and infirmities, 
he is more tender of them, as a lame member or diseased 
limb is more carefully cherished than all the rest, that 
are sound and in perfect vigour. All offices of this kind 
are the greatest endearments, being real flatteries en- 



PROSE WORKS. 229 

forced by deeds and actions, and therefore far more 
prevalent than those that are performed by words and 
fawning, though very great advantages are daily obtained 
that way : and therefore he esteems flattery as the next 
most sure and successful way of improving his interests. 
For flattery is but a kind of civil idolatry, that makes 
images itself of virtue, worth, and honour in some person 
that is utterly void of all, and then falls down and wor- 
ships them. And the more dull and absurd these appli- 
cations are, the better they are always received : for 
men delight more to be presented with those things they 
want, than such as they have no use or need of. And 
though they condemn the realities of those honours and 
renowns that are falsely imputed to them, they are won- 
derfully affected with their false pretences. For dreams 
work more upon men's passions than any waking thoughts 
of the same kind ; and many out of an ignorant super- 
stition give more credit to them than the most rational 
of all their vigilant conjectures, how false soever they 
prove in the event. No wonder then, if those who apply 
to men's fancies and humours have a stronger influence 
upon them than those that seek to prevail upon their 
reasons and understandings, especially in things so de- 
lightful to them as their own praises, no matter how false 
and apparently incredible ; for great persons may wear 
counterfeit jewels of any character with more confidence 
and security from being discovered, than those of meaner 
quality, in whose hands the greatness of their value (if 
they were true) is more apt to render them suspected. 
A flatterer is like Mahomet's pigeon, that picks his food 
out of his master's ear, who is willing to have it believed 
that he whispers oracles into it, and accordingly sets a 
high esteem upon the service he does him, though the 
impostor only designs his own utilities. For men are 
for the most part better pleased with other men's opi- 
nions, though false, of their happiness, than their own 
experiences ; and find more pleasure in the dullest flat- 
tery of others than in all the vast imaginations they can 
have of themselves, as no man is apt to be tickled with 
his own fingers; because the applauses of others are 

l3 



230 PROSE WORKS. 

more agreeable to those high conceits they have of them- 
selves, which they are glad to find confirmed, and are 
the only music that sets them a-daneing, like those who 
are bitten with a tarantula. 

He accounts it, in an argument of great discretion and 
as great temper, to take no notice of affronts and indig- 
nities put upon him by great persons. For he that is 
insensible of injuries of this nature can receive none, and 
if he lose no confidence by them, can lose nothing else ; 
for it is greater to be above injuries, than either to do or 
revenge them ; and he that will be deterred by those 
discouragements from prosecuting his designs, will never 
obtain what he proposes to himself. 

Next to pride, he believes ambition to be the only 
generous and heroical virtue in the world that mankind 
is capable of. For as nature gave man an erect figure, 
to raise him above the grovelling condition of his fellow- 
creatures the beasts, so he that endeavours to improve 
that, and raise himself higher, seems best to comply with 
the design and intention of nature. Though the stature 
of a man is confined to a certain height, yet his mind is 
unlimited, and capable of growing up to heaven : and 
as those who endeavour to arrive at that perfection are 
adored and reverenced by all, so he that endeavours to 
advance himself as high as possibly he can in this world, 
comes nearest to the condition of those holy and divine 
aspirers. All the purest parts of nature always tend 
upwards, and the more dull and heavy downwards ; so 
in the little world the noblest faculties of man, his reason 
and understanding, that give him a prerogative above 
all other earthly creatures, mounts upwards. And there- 
fore he who takes that course, and still aspires in 
all his undertakings and designs, does but conform 
with that which nature dictates. Are not the reason 
and the will, the two commanding faculties of the soul, 
still striving which shall be uppermost ? Men honour 
none but those that are above them, contest with equals, 
and disdain inferiors. The first thing God gave man, 
was dominion over the rest of his inferior creatures ; but 



PROSE WORKS. 231 

he that can extend that over man improves his talent 
to the best advantage. 

Among all his virtues there is none which he sets so 
high an esteem upon as impudence, which he finds more 
useful and necessary than a vizard is to a highwayman. 
For he that has but a competent stock of this natural 
endowment, has an interest in any man he pleases, and 
is able to manage it with greater advantages than those 
who have all the real pretences imaginable, but want 
that dexterous way of soliciting by which, if the worst fall 
out, he is sure to lose nothing, if he does not win. 

He believes a man's word and his meaning should 
never agree together: for he lays himself open to be 
expounded by the most ignorant ; and he who does not 
make his words rather serve to conceal than discover the 
sense of his heart, deserves to have it pulled out, like a 
traitor's, and shown publicly to the rabble. For as a 
king, they say, cannot reign without dissembling, so pri- 
vate men, without that, cannot govern themselves with 
any prudence or discretion imaginable. That is the only 
politic magic that has power to make a man walk invisible, 
give him access into all men's premises, and keep all 
others out of his ; which is as great an odds as it is to 
discover what cards those he plays with have in their 
hands, and permit them to know nothing of his. And 
therefore he never speaks his ow r n sense, but that which 
he finds comes nearest to the meaning of those he con- 
verses with ; as birds are drawn into nets by pipes that 
counterfeit their own voices. By this means he pos- 
sesses men, like the devil, by getting within them before 
they are aware, turns them out of themselves, and either 
betrays, or renders them ridiculous, as he finds it most 
agreeable either to his humour or his occasions. 

As for religion, he believes a wise man ought to pos- 
sess it ; only that he may not be observed to have freed 
himself from the obligations of it, and so teach others by 
his example to take the same freedom ; for he who is at 
liberty has a great advantage over all those whom he 



232 PROSE WORKS. 

has to deal with, as all hypocrites find by perpetual ex- 
perience. That one of the best uses that can be made of 
it, is to take measure of men's understandings and abili- 
ties by it, according as they are more or less serious in 
it ; for he thinks that no man ought to be much con- 
cerned in it but hypocrites, and such as make it their 
calling and profession ; who, though they do not live by 
their faith, like the righteous, do that which is nearest 
to it, get their living by it ; and that those only take the 
surest course who make their best advantages of it in this 
world, and trust to Providence for the next, to which 
purpose he believes it is most properly to be relied upon 
by all men. 

He admires good nature as only good to those who 
have it not, and laughs at friendship as a ridiculous fop- 
pery, which all wise men easily outgrow ; for the more a 
man loves another, the less he loves himself. All re- 
gards and civil applications should, like true devotion, 
look upwards, and address those that are above us, 
and from whom we may in probability expect either 
good or evil ; but to apply to those that are our equals, 
or such as cannot benefit or hurt us, is a far more irra- 
tional idolatry than worshipping of images or beasts. All 
the good that can proceed from friendship is but this, 
that it puts men in a way to betray one another. The 
hest parents, who are commonly the worst men, have 
/naturally a tender kindness for their children, only be- 
cause they believe they are a part of themselves, which 
shows that self-love is the original of all others, and the 
foundation of that great law of nature, self preservation ; 
for no man ever destroyed himself wilfully that had not 
first left off to love himself. Therefore, a man's self is 
the proper object of his love, which is never so well 
employed as when it is kept within its own confines, and 
not suffered to straggle. Every man is just as much a 
slave as he is concerned in the will, inclinations, or for- 
tunes of another, or has any thing of himself out of his 
own power to dispose of; and therefore he is resolved 
never to treat any man with that kindness which he 
takes up of himself, unless he has such security as is most 



PROSE W©RKS. 233 

certain to yield him double interest : for he that does 
otherwise is but a Jew and a Turk to himself, which is 
much worse than to be so to all the world beside. Friends 
are only friends to those who have no need of them, and 
when they have, become no longer friends ; like the 
leaves of trees, that clothe the woods in the heat of 
summer, when they have no need of warmth, but leave 
them naked when cold weather comes ; and since there 
are so few that prove otherwise, it is not wisdom to rely 
on any. 

And since buffoonery is, and always has been, so de- 
lightful to great persons, he holds him very impro- 
vident that is to seek in a quality so enduring that he 
cannot at least serve for want of a better; especially 
since it is so easy, that the greatest part of the difficulty 
lies in confidence, and he that can but stand fair, and 
give aim to those that are gamesters, does not always 
lose his labour, but many times becomes well esteemed 
for his generous and bold demeanour, and a lucky re- 
partee, hit upon by chance, may be the making a man. 
This is the only modern way of running a-tilt, with 
which great persons are so delighted to see men en- 
counter one another, and break jests, as they did here- 
tofore ; and he that has the best beaver to his helmet 
has the greatest advantage ; and as the former past upon 
the account of valour, so does the latter on the score of 
wit, though neither perhaps have any great reason for 
their pretences, especially the latter, that depends much 
upon confidence, which is commonly a great support to 
wit, and therefore believed to be its betters, that ought 
to take place of it, as all men are greater than their de- 
pendants. So pleasant is it to see men lessen one an- 
other, and strive who shall show himself the most ill- 
natured and ill-mannered. As in cuffing, all blows are 
aimed at the face ; so it fares in these rencontres, where 
he that wears the toughest leather on his visage comes 
off with victory, though he has ever so much the ad- 
vantage upon all other accounts. 

As for the meanness of these ways, which some may 



234 PROSE WORKS. 

think too base to be employed to so excellent an end, 
that imports nothing ; for what dislike soever the world 
conceives against any man's undertakings, if they do but 
succeed and prosper, it will easily recant its error, and 
applaud what it condemned before ; and therefore all 
wise men have ever justly esteemed it a great virtue to 
disdain the false values it commonly sets upon all things, 
and which itself is so apt to retract. 

A DEGENERATE NOBLE 

Is like a turnip, there is nothing good of him but that 
which is under ground ; or rhubarb, a contemptible 
shrub that springs from a noble root. He has no more 
title to the worth and virtue of his ancestors than the 
worms that were engendered in their dead bodies, and 
yet he believes he has enough to exempt himself and his 
posterity from all things of that nature for ever. This 
makes him glory in the antiquity of his family, as if his 
nobility were the better the further off it is in time, as 
well as desert, from that of his predecessors. He be- 
lieves the honour that was left him, as well as the estate, 
is sufficient to support his quality, without troubling 
himself to purchase any more of his own ; and he 
meddles as little with the management of the one as the 
other, but trusts both to the government of his servants, 
by whom he is equally cheated in both. He supposes 
the empty title of honour sufficient to serve his turn, 
though he has spent the substance and reality of it, like 
the fellow that sold his ass, but would not part with the 
shadow of it ; or Apicius, that sold his house, and kept 
only the balcony, to see and be seen in. And because 
he is privileged from being arrested for his debts, sup- 
poses he has the same freedom from all obligations he 
owes humanity and his country ; because he is not 
punishable for his ignorance and want of honour, no 
more than poverty or unskilfulness is in other professions, 
which the law supposes to be punishment enough to 
itself. He is like a, fanatic, that contents himself with 
the mere title of a saint, and makes that his privilege to 
act all manner of wickedness ; or the ruins of a noble 
structure, of which there is nothing left but the founda- 



PROSE WORKS. 235 

tion, and that obscured and buried under the rubbish of 
the superstructure. The living honour of his ancestors 
is long ago departed, dead and gone, and his is but the 
ghost and shadow of it, that haunts the house with 
horror and disquiet where once it lived. His nobility 
is truly descended from the glory of his forefathers, and 
may be rightly said to fall to him ; for it will never rise 
again to the height it was in them by his means ; and he 
succeeds them as candles do the office of the sun. The 
confidence of nobility has rendered him ignoble, as the 
opinion of wealth makes some men poor ; and as those 
that are born to estates neglect industry, and have no 
business but to spend, so he, being born to honour, 
believes he is no further concerned than to consume and 
waste it. He is but a copy, and so ill done, that there 
ft no line of the original in him, but the sin only. He 
/5s like a word that, by ill custom and mistake, has utterly 
/lost the sense of that from which it was derived, and 
/ now signifies quite contrary : for the glory of noble 
I ancestors will not permit the good or bad of their pos- 
terity to be obscure. He values himself only upon his 
title, which, being only verbal, gives him a wrong 
account of his natural capacity ; for the same words 
signify more or less, according as they are applied to 
things, as ordinary and extraordinary do at court ; and 
sometimes the greater sound has the less sense 5 as in 
accounts though four be more than three, yet a third in 
proportion is more than a fourth. 

A HUFFING COURTIER 

Is a cipher that has no value himself but from the place 
he stands in. All his happiness consists in the opinion 
he believes others have of it. This is his faith ; but as 
it is heretical and erroneous, though he suffer much 
tribulation for it, he continues obstinate, and not to be 
convinced. He flutters up and down like a butterfly in 
a garden ; and while he is pruning of his peruke, takes 
occasion to contemplate his legs and the symmetry of 
his breeches. He is part of the furniture of the rooms, 
and serves as a walking picture — a moving piece of 
arras. His business is only to be seen, and he performs 



236 PROSE WORKS 

it with admirable industry, placing himself always in 
the best light, looking wonderfully politic, and cautious 
whom he mixes withal. His occupation is to show his 
clothes, and if they could but walk themselves they 
would save him the labour, and do his work as well as 
himself. His immunity from varlets is his freehold, and 
he were a lost man without it. His clothes are but his 
tailor's livery, which he gives him, for 'tis ten to one he 
never pays for them. He is very careful to discover the 
lining of his coat, that you may not suspect any want 
of integrity or flaw in him from the skin outwards. His 
tailor is his creator, and makes him of nothing; and 
though he lives by faith in him, he is perpetually com- 
mitting iniquities against him. His soul dwells in the 
outside of him, like that of a hollow tree ; and if you do 
but peel the bark off him he deceases immediately. 
His carriage of himself is the wearing of his clothes ; 
and, like the cinnamon tree, his bark is better than his 
body. His looking big is rather a tumour than greatness. 
He is an idol, that has just so much value as other men 
give him that believe in him, but none of his own. He 
makes his ignorance pass for reserve, and, like a hunting 
nag, leaps over what he cannot get through. He has 
just so much of politics as hostlers in the university have 
Latin. He is as humble as a Jesuit to his superior ; but 
repays himself again in insolence over those that are 
below him ; and with a generous scorn despises those 
who can neither do him good nor hurt. He adores those 
that may do him good, though he knows they never 
will ; and despises those that would not hurt him if they 
could. The court is his church, and he believes as that 
believes ; and cries up and down everything, as he finds 
it pass there. It is a great comfort to him to think that 
some who do not know him may perhaps take him for a 
lord ; and while that thought lasts, he looks bigger than 
usual, and forgets his acquaintance ; and that is the 
reason why he will sometimes know you and sometimes 
not. Nothing but want of money or credit puts him in 
mind that he is mortal ; but then he trusts Providence 
that somebody will trust him ; and in expectation of 
that, hopes for a better life, and that his debts will 



PROSE WORKS. 237 

never rise up in judgment against him. To get into 
debt is to labour in his vocation ; but to pay is to forfeit 
his protection ; for what 's that worth to one that owes 
nothing? His employment being only to wear his 
clothes, the whole account of his life and actions is re- 
corded in shopkeepers' books, that are his faithful his- 
toriographers to their own posterity ; and he believes 
he loses so much reputation, as he pays off his debts ; 
that no man wears his clothes in fashion that pays for 
them, for nothing is further from the mode. He 
believes that he that runs in debt is beforehand with 
those that trust him, and only those that pay are behind. 
His brains are turned giddy, like one that walks on the 
top of a wall ; and that is the reason it is so troublesome 
to him to look downwards. He is a kind of spectrum, 
and his clothes are the shape he takes to appear and 
walk in ; and when he puts them off he vanishes. He 
runs as busily out of one room into another as a great 
practiser does in Westminster Hall from one court to 
another. When he accosts a lady he puts both ends of 
his microcosm in motion, by making legs at one end, and 
combing his peruke at the other. His garniture is the 
sauce to his clothes, and he walks in his port-cannons 
like one that stalks in long grass. Every motion of him 
cries Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, quoth the preacher. 
He rides himself like a well-managed horse, reins in his 
neck, and walks Terra Terra. He carries his elbows 
backward, as if he were pinioned like a trussed-up fowl, 
and moves as stiff as if he were upon the spit. His legs 
are stuck in his great voluminous breeches like the 
whistles in a bagpipe, those abundant breeches in which 
his nether parts are not clothed, but packed up. His 
hat has been long in a consumption of the fashion, and 
is now almost worn to nothing ; if it do not recover 
quickly, it will be almost too little for a head of garlic. 
He wears garniture on the toes of his shoes to justify his 
pretensions to the gout, or such other malady that for the 
time being is most in fashion or request. When he 
salutes a friend, he pulls off his hat, as women do their 
vizard-masks. His ribbons are of the true complexion 
of his mind, a kind of painted cloud or gaudy rainbow, 



238 PROSE WORKS. 

that has no colour of itself but what it borrows from 
reflection. He is as tender of his clothes as a coward is 
of his flesh, and as loth to have them disordered. His 
bravery is all his happiness ; and like Atlas he carries 
his heaven on his back. He is like the golden fleece, a 
fine outside on a sheep's back. He is a monster or an 
Indian creature, that is good for nothing in the world 
but to be seen. He puts himself up in a sedan, like a 
fiddle in a case, and is taken out again for the ladies to 
play upon, who when they are done, let down his treble 
string, till they are in the humour again. His cook and 
valet-de-ehambre conspire to dress dinner and him so 
punctually together, that the one may not be ready 
before the other. As peacocks and ostriches have the 
gaudiest and finest feathers, yet cannot fly ; so all his 
bravery is to flutter only. The beggars call him " My 
Lord," and he takes them at their words, and pays 
them for it. If you praise him, he is so true and faithful 
to the mode, that he never fails to make you a present 
of himself, and will not be refused, though you know 
not what to do with him when you have him. 

A COURT BEGGAR 

Waits at court, as a dog does under a table, to catch 
what falls or force it from his fellows if he can. When 
a man is in a fair way to be hanged that is richly worth 
it, or has hanged himself, he puts in to be his heir and 
succeed him, and pretends as much merit as another, as, 
no doubt, he has great reason to do, if all things were 
rightly considered. He thinks it vain to deserve well of 
his prince, as long as he can do his business more easily 
by begging; for the same idle laziness possesses him 
that does the rest of his fraternity, that had rather take 
an alms than work for their livings ; and therefore he 
accounts merit a more uncertain and tedious way of 
rising, and sometimes dangerous. He values himself 
and his place not upon the honour or allowances of it, 
but the convenient opportunity of begging, as King 
Clause's courtiers do when they have obtained of the 
superior powers a good station where three ways meet, 
to exercise the function in. The more ignorant, foolish, 



PROSE WORKS. 239 

and undeserving he is, providing he be but impudent 
enough, which all such seldom fail to be, the better he 
thrives in his calling, as others in the same way gain 
more by their sores and broken limbs, than those that are 
sound in health. He always undervalues what he gains, 
because he comes easily by it ; and how rich soever he 
proves, is resolved never to be satisfied, as being, like a 
friar minor, bound by his order to be always a beggar. 
He is like King Agrippa, almost a Christian ; for 
though he never begs anything of God, yet he does very 
much of his vicegerent the king, who is next him. He 
spends lavishly what he gets, because it costs him so 
little pains to get more ; but pays nothing, for if he 
should, his privilege would be of no use at all to him, 
and he does not care to part with anything of his right. 
He finds it his best way to be always craving, because 
he lights many times upon things that are disposed of or 
not beggable ; but if one hit, it pays for twenty that 
miscarry ; even as those virtuosi of his profession at 
large ask as well of those that give them nothing, as 
those few that out of charity give them something. 
When he has passed almost all offices, as other beggars 
pass from constable to constable, and after meets with a 
stop, it does but encourage him to be more industrious in 
watching the next opportunity, to repair the charge he 
has been at for no purpose. He has his emissaries, that 
are always hunting out for discoveries, and when they 
bring him in anything that he judges too heavy for his 
own interest to carry, he takes in others to join with him 
(like blind men and cripples that beg in concert) : and 
if they prosper they share, and give the jackal some 
small snip for his pains in questing, that is, if he has any 
further use of him, otherwise he leaves him like virtue 
to reward himself; and because he deserves well, which 
he does by no means approve of, gives him that which 
he believes to be the fittest recompense of all merit, just 
nothing. He believes, that the king's restoration being 
upon his birth-day, he is bound to observe it all the days 
of his life, and grant, as some other kings have done 
upon the same occasion, whatever is demanded of him, 
though it were the one-half of his kingdom. 



: 

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J 

*240 PROSE WORKS. 

We add the following from his ' Reflections/ short 
detached pieces found among his papers : — 

Charity is the chief of all Christian virtues, without 
which all the rest signify nothing : for Faith and Hope 
can only bring us on our way to the confines of this 
world ; but Charity is not only our convoy to Heaven, 
but engaged to stay with us there for ever. And yet 
there is not any sort of religious people in the world 
that will not renounce and disclaim this necessary cause 
of salvation for mere trifles of slightest moment imagin- 
able : nay, will not preposterously endeavour to secure 
their eternal happiness, by destroying that without which 
it is never to be obtained. 

From hence are all their spiritual quarrels derived, 
and such punctilios of opinion, that though more nice 
and peevish than those of love and honour in romances, 
are yet maintained with such animosities, as if Heaven 
were to be purchased no way but that, which is the most 
certain and infallible of all others to lose it. 

There is nothing in nature more arbitrary than a 
Parliament, and yet there is nothing else that is able to 
preserve the nation from being governed by an arbitrary 
power, and confine authority within a limited compass ; 
as a prop can make a falling house stand firm, though it 
cannot stand of itself, and a bow make an arrow fly, 
though it cannot fly itself. 

Vices, like weeds, grow by being neglected ; but, 
virtues, like herbs, degenerate and grow wild, if there 
be not care taken of them. Both render a man equally 
contemptible when they are openly professed and gloried 
in ; for virtue loses itself, and turns vice, in doing that 
which is contrary to its own nature. Many virtues may 
become vices by being ill managed, but no one vice by 
any means a virtue. 



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